Thrill of Hope
by misslucy21
Summary: A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices...
1. Chapter 1

Thrill of Hope

Spoilers: Lost Son AU

Insert favorite disclaimer here

AN: Yeah, I'm writing a story set in December in April. It's not exactly a Christmas story as much as it's what comes next, though. Be patient, I really don't know where we're going yet. It might be a bit more sporadically updated than previous stories. At minimum, you need to be familiar with Blind Memory, The Edge of Darkness, and All These Things before embarking on this one. Or not, but this won't make much sense otherwise...

* * *

Well it breaks my heart to see you this way  
The beauty in life, where's it gone  
And somebody told me you were doin' okay  
But somehow I guess they were wrong

"Whistles the Wind," Flogging Molly

* * *

He could hear her crying softly as he padded down the hallway to the kitchen to get a drink. _Third night in a row…_ he thought, worriedly. And God knew how many nights before that, where he just hadn't heard. He stood in the kitchen, holding his glass, debating with himself.

_How many nights has Calleigh come and held your hand, idiot? Just go in there, _he told himself firmly. Nodding decidedly, he crept towards the door to the room he now thought of as Calleigh's room. _Knock? No, she'll just say she's fine…_ he mused, as he opened the door a crack.

Calleigh was curled into a ball on the bed facing away from the door. She sounded completely miserable and didn't notice him as he walked across the room. "Cal?" he said, softly, so as not to startle her as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Tim? Did I wake you," she asked, squirming around to face him.

He shook his head. "No." It wasn't a lie. He hadn't been asleep.

"I must have, God, I'm sorry," she said, trying to pull herself together.

"C'mere," he said, reaching out to pull her close. "Shh, don't fight. It's ok," he said, as she dissolved back into crying. He gently maneuvered them both so that he was curled up behind her, holding her. "It's all right," he whispered into her hair.

"I don't know why I'm such a mess all of a sudden," she said, finally, as she calmed down.

He shrugged. "You're not a mess."

She smiled, wanly. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He brushed back her hair. "You want something to drink or something?" She shook her head. He nodded, understanding that she didn't want him to leave. He'd done the same often enough.

She sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Not allowed," he said.

"I know. I'm sorry anyway," she said.

"Still not allowed," he said, firmly. She chuckled slightly at that, and he squeezed her tighter a second. "They told me…" he started, hesitantly.

"Told you what?" she asked, when he didn't continue.

"Well, the doctors, they told me that…that I shouldn't be surprised if I kinda, I don't know, backslide, a bit, because of the holidays, you know?"

"Ah," she said, squirming around to face him. "That's understandable, Tim. Holidays are stressful enough, without dealing with everything you're facing down on top of it."

"I know. That's kinda my point," he said, nodding.

"I don't…oh, that's why I'm a mess?" she asked.

"You're not a mess, but yeah," he said.

She thought it over a moment. "Ok, I can buy that."

"You guys haven't had a good time of it, either, you know," he pointed out.

"I think you've had it worse," she said.

"Matter of degree," he said. "Doesn't change the fact that all this happened to you, too."

"What are you getting at?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged. "You guys made me get help. I'm…returning the favor, sort of."

"Ahhh," she said, understanding. "I'm ok, Tim."

"Cal, how many times have I said I'm ok when I'm clearly not?" he asked.

"Ok, point taken," she sighed. She was quiet a long moment. "I just miss Eric, a lot."

"I know," he said, quietly. He did too.

"I'll hear someone teasing Valera and come around the corner, expecting it to be him, and it'll be someone else," she admitted. "Or, we had to call the county dive team to dig around in a canal."

"That was today?" he asked, wondering if that's what had set her off tonight.

"Yeah," she sighed. "Horatio and I just stood there and watched. Horatio looked like he was sick to his stomach the whole time."

He glanced down, guiltily. Not that he could have helped if he'd been there; diving was far from his specialty. But he felt bad for not being there. And for not being sure if he was ever going to be there again. He didn't think Calleigh knew that, though. Horatio had figured it out, but he didn't know if H had told Calleigh about that conversation in North Carolina.

"Hey," she said, softly, reaching out to tilt his face to meet her eyes. "That's not your fault. None of this is your fault."

"I don't know anymore," he admitted. "I mean…"

"No, Tim, it's not. If it's anyone's fault, it's Andrew Markham's fault," she said, firmly.

"Yeah, but if I…got better faster," he said, trailing off.

"What do you mean? You're doing fine," she said.

"I'm not, not really," he admitted. "I just…it's hard. And I don't really feel better, exactly."

"Tim, you're doing much better. Much, much better. You leave the house now. You don't panic nearly as much as you were," she said.

"The nightmares aren't better, they're worse," he countered.

"No, they're not. You just think so because you don't know how bad it was to begin with," she said. "You weren't having nightmares before, because you were having full on night terrors instead. You didn't remember them, and the one time I tried to tell you what happened, you got really upset, so I stopped telling you. Trust me, this is an improvement. Dr. McCall says so, too, you know," she said.

"Oh," he said.

"So don't think you're not getting better. I know it's hard to tell from your perspective, but you are. Really."

"Well, all right. But you're not getting better," he pointed out.

She sighed. "No, ok, you're right. I'm not."

"I'm not saying it to be mean, Calleigh. Or to get back at you or something. I don't want you to be hurting, either," he said, softly.

"Oh, I know," she said. "I didn't think you meant anything other than that."

He fidgeted with her hair as he thought. "I'll make you a deal," he said, suddenly.

"Yeah? What kind of deal?" she asked.

"If you go talk to someone, I'll…I'll let them start my post-traumatic counseling," he said, in a rush. He'd been resisting that part of things for a month. He had relented on the issue of medication, but he'd refused to let the doctor start in with the counseling, beyond ensuring the fact that he wasn't suicidal and the panic attacks weren't getting worse. They hadn't been pushing him- in fact, it had been the doctor who had said they should delay it in the first place, since he'd been such a mess to begin with. But lately, they had been telling him that it was the only possible next step and that he needed to do it if he wanted any hope of ever going back to work, let alone going back to work in three weeks, after the first of the year.

"Really?" she asked, pulling away to sit up and stare at him.

He swallowed. "Yeah."

She just stared at him. "You can't do that because of me. You have to be ready to do that for yourself," she protested.

"Why can't I do it because of you?" he asked. "I mean, I think we all know that if we wait for me to be ready for it, it's not going to happen."

"True," she sighed. "All right, you can do it because of me. So long as you're honest about it."

"Of course," he said. "So, it's a deal?"

"It's a deal," she said, reaching out to take his hand.

"Good," he said.

She laid back down next to him. "God, we're a pair, aren't we?" she laughed sadly.

He shrugged and she shook her head, still laughing. "Want me to stay?" he asked after a moment.

"Yeah," she said, not quite looking at him.

"All right," he said, reaching down for a blanket. He'd expected her to say yes. It seemed they wound up in the same bed more often than not in the three weeks since returning from North Carolina. Usually, though, it was the other way around; she came to calm him down from a nightmare and stayed with him. He was glad, though. He slept better when she was there, and he was willing to bet she did too.

"Night," she said, softly, reaching over him to turn out the light.

"Night," he said, sleepily, letting his eyes drift shut.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

It's coming on Christmas  
They're cutting down trees  
They're putting up reindeer  
And singing songs of joy and peace  
I wish I had a river  
I could skate away on

"River", Joni Mitchell

* * *

The alarm went off and she slapped it quiet quickly before it could wake Tim up. She held still for a long moment, but he didn't move. _Good,_ she thought, sitting up slowly. He was curled in on himself with his arms wrapped over his head like usual. She shook her head, wondering how on earth he found that to be a comfortable position. Cider poked her sleepy head up over Tim's side to look at her.

"Shh," she breathed, holding a finger up to her lips. The cat looked at her reproachfully, but settled down back into the space between Tim's elbows and knees. Calleigh smiled as she carefully maneuvered around him to get out of bed. _This is easier in his bed,_ she mused as she found her bathrobe. His bed wasn't pushed against a wall and she was usually on the outside. Tiptoeing out of the room, she congratulated herself for getting up without waking him up. He was easier to wake up these days, which was both good and bad. Good, because it meant he wasn't as dependent on medication to sleep. Bad because he still desperately needed the sleep- probably more now than he did before, because he was growing more active again. He'd do things now like go to the grocery store, or go to lunch with Alexx. The increased activity wore him out; even with going to bed a good two hours before she did, and sleeping at least an hour later, he still tended to need an afternoon nap.

But the activity was good. It made her a little bit more hopeful. He'd been so out of it for so long that she had despaired of him ever recovering. He wouldn't be the same- none of them were, really- but he'd still be Tim.

She sighed as she looked at the calendar on the fridge while waiting for her coffee to finish brewing. Two weeks until Christmas. Usually, December was her favorite month. She usually looked forward to the holidays. But this year, she didn't feel like she had the energy to spare. She'd be working the holidays- it was her turn, anyway, despite the fact she didn't have any leave left on the year. She wouldn't get to go to Louisiana this year- maybe in February, for her birthday, she'd told her mother. Her mother was not very happy with that plan. Usually, she could manage to steal a couple of days to go visit, even if it was her turn to work, and her mother was unhappy that she hadn't managed to do so this year. But her mother didn't know that she usually stole those days because Tim offered to work for her. He always offered to work for whoever was stuck with Christmas, because he didn't go home and said he'd probably go into work anyway, so someone else might as well have the day off. And Eric usually offered to take a day as well, since he already _was_ home, and could easily escape the celebrating to work a shift or two. There was no one to offer this year. And she would have felt bad about taking anyone other than Tim or Eric up on the offer anyway.

At least this year, Tim would get to have a real Christmas; not having to work had to be better than working alone like he usually did. He'd told her it wasn't a big deal- Alexx always had him over on Christmas Eve for dinner and that was plenty enough celebrating for him. But she suspected that like many other things, Tim had convinced himself he didn't care to cover up the fact that he did, in fact, care a great deal. Since living with him, she'd come to realize that despite the fact that he tried so hard to push everyone away and be seen as a loner, in reality he hated being alone. It had made her wonder what else she had thought was true, but was really Tim trying to convince himself that he didn't care about something.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and put bread in the toaster as her cell phone rang. Sighing, she retrieved it from the charger on the kitchen counter and answered it. "Duquesne."

"It's me," Horatio said on the other end. "Sorry to call so early, but I need you as soon as possible. We've got a DB outside of a dorm at UM."

"Finals week gone bad?" she asked, glancing again at the calendar.

"Wouldn't surprise me. Anyway, I know you probably just got up, but we really have to get this situated as soon as we can," he said.

"No problem. I'll be there in about ten, fifteen minutes?" she said.

"Sounds good," he agreed. "See you then."

She sighed as she hung up and crept back into the bedroom for clothes. Tim was still asleep with Cider. She hurried into her clothing and dumped her coffee into a travel mug. The toast popped up just then and she grabbed it and buttered it while shoving her feet into her shoes. She scooped up her breakfast, and walked out into the living room to retrieve her gun from the locked end table drawer. Grabbing her bag, she slipped out the front door, trying not to bang the screen door as she went.

Traffic wasn't too terrible yet, and Tim didn't live all that far away from UM. She barely had time to finish her toast before she was pulling her Jeep alongside the Hummer. "Hey," she called out to Horatio, who was standing with his hands on his hips.

"Morning," he said, turning to face her. "Alexx should be here any minute."

"Ok," she said. She bent down and retrieved a pair of gloves from his kit. "What do we have?"

"No ID yet," Horatio said. "A young man found him as he was coming home from an all night library session. He admits to touching the body; apparently our victim was lying on his side, and it wasn't obvious he was dead." He nodded over to where Yelena was talking to a kid wearing a ball cap. "He did, however, call 911. Seems cooperative, if shaken."

"Well, I don't blame him. Does he know the victim?" she asked.

Horatio shook his head. "No. But there's approximately 1,500 people living in this dorm, so it's possible the victim does live here."

"Right," she sighed. "I'm going to start looking for bullets. Unless you want me to take the photos?"

"No, I did the photos already," he said. "You look for bullets and other trace. I'll wait for Alexx."

"Sounds good," she said, starting to walk her usual search grid. She heard, more than saw, Alexx arrive and tuned it out. Horatio had the body, she had the rest of the evidence.

After about twenty minutes, she'd finished her grid and came up with two bullets and some random unidentified objects for Trace. "All righty then," she muttered as she walked back to where Horatio and Yelena were standing.

"What do we have?" Horatio asked.

"Two 9mm's and a bunch of randomness," she said, holding up the evidence envelopes. "Nothing really for prints, finger or otherwise."

"Probably wouldn't be useable even if we did have them. Too many kids around," Horatio said, nodding. "Are the bullets usable?" he asked.

"One of them is a bit beat up, but the other should be fine," she nodded. "Do we have an ID yet?"

"Wallet's gone," Horatio said, shaking his head.

"Lovely," she sighed. "Well, I'll take these back to the lab and see what I can do with them."

"Keep me posted," Horatio nodded as he slipped on his sunglasses.

"Will do," she said, smiling at him before turning to walk back to her Jeep. "Happy Holidays," she sighed as she turned on the ignition and headed for the lab.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

So scream you, out from behind the bitter ache  
Heavy on the memory, you need most  
still want love, ugly, smooth and delicate  
not without affection, not alone

And instead of wishing that it would get better  
man you're seeing that you just get angrier

And it's good that I'm not angry  
I just need to get over,  
I'm not angry, anymore

"Angry", matchbox twenty

* * *

The phone rang, and he reached up to snag the handset off of the counter. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's me," Calleigh answered him.

"Hi," he said, craning his neck to see the clock on the stove. He was surprised to find that yes, it was lunchtime already. Calleigh still called him when she ate lunch to check on him. He didn't mind, really. "You left early today," he said, settling back on his heels.

"Crap. I was sure I didn't wake you," she said, in dismay.

"You didn't. There was a phone call after you left, around 6:45," he explained. Calleigh usually left at 7.

"Who was calling at 6:45?" she asked.

"Um, wrong number," he lied. It had been her mother, and she had not been terribly happy. He didn't figure Calleigh needed to know that right then.

"Wrong number? Before 7AM? That's…odd," Calleigh said. She didn't say anything for a moment, then said, "Tim, was it my mom?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "I was gonna tell you she called when you got home."

"Damnit," she muttered under her breath. "How did she get your number…oh, wait," she sighed. "I called her from the house line the other night, and she's got Caller ID. I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "It's fine, Calleigh. I don't mind if your mom has the number." Her mother, he didn't mind. Her father was a bit of a different story, but only because he knew Mr. Hayes had a tendency to drunk dial in the middle of the night. "You told her you were here, right?" he asked. "Because she was kind of surprised when I picked up."

"Yeah, I did, a while back. But she has selective hearing sometimes," Calleigh sighed. "She didn't jump all over you, did she?"

"Not really," he said.

"Not really isn't no. What did she say?" Calleigh demanded.

He sighed. "She wanted to know if I was the reason you weren't going to Louisiana for Christmas."

"Lord. Of course you're not," she sighed. "I mean, oh hell, you know what I mean."

"Well, I am, kinda. 'Cause you'd have leave time otherwise," he said.

"No, it's not because I don't have the leave time. It's because I had Thanksgiving off. Remember? We made sweet potato casserole and went over and had dinner with Alexx's family?" she said.

"I remember," he said.

"Well, then it's my turn to work Christmas, then. She can deal," Calleigh said, irritably.

He didn't say anything. He knew that if he was working, he'd have taken her Christmas shift. But pointing that out was not going to end well. He wondered if she'd kept her end of the bargain, but didn't want to ask that, either. He was distracted suddenly by a curious meow. "Hey, no! That's not for drinking, Strawberry," he said. "It's nasty." He reached out to redirect the cat from the bucket of soapy water by his knee.

"What's that?" she asked, confused.

"Strawberry was trying to drink the bucket water," he explained.

"What are you doing?" she asked, still sounding confused.

"Scrubbing the kitchen floor," he replied.

"What on earth for? You mop it every other day." He could hear the headshaking in her voice.

"My parents are coming next week? Remember?"

"Oh, right," she said. "I'm sorry, I forgot. So your parents coming means you scrub the kitchen floor?"

"It needed scrubbing anyway. I haven't done it since September," he shrugged.

"You do realize that your kitchen is cleaner than most operating rooms, right?" she asked.

"It's not that bad, Cal," he protested.

"What else have you done today?" she asked, as though she was half afraid to hear the answer.

"I did the bathrooms and my bedroom. I left yours alone, other than to vacuum," he said.

"So now you're scrubbing the kitchen floor," she said.

"Yeah. I'm almost done."

"Don't wear yourself out, Tim," she warned.

"I'm not," he said. "I'm fine."

She sighed. "All right. What else do you have to do to be ready?"

He frowned. "The living room needs dusting and the office needs cleaning up and the breezeway and the back porch should get scrubbed up. Oh, and I should probably steam the carpets," he replied after a moment.

"When are they coming?" she asked.

"Tuesday."

"Ok, well, leave the rest of the tough stuff, ok? Like the carpets and the breezeway. I'll help you with those on Sunday, when I'm off, ok?"

"You don't have to, Cal. It's my parents. I don't want to waste your day off with it."

"I don't mind. I don't want you being too worn out from cleaning to enjoy their visit, Tim," she said.

"Fine," he sighed.

"All right. I gotta go. I might be late," she sighed

"Ok."

"Leave the rest of it, Tim. I mean it, really."

"Ok, fine," he said, irritably.

"All right. Eat your lunch."

"I will as soon as I'm done."

"Good. I'll see you later, ok? Call if you need anything," she said.

"Of course," he said. "Bye."

"Bye." She hung up and he reached up to put the phone back on the counter. Sighing, he retrieved the scrub brush and continued attacking the tomato stain by the refrigerator. Strawberry came to investigate and pounced on his hand.

"Hey!" he said, laughing in spite of himself. "Knock it off." He moved his hand away, but the cat pounced again. "Silly," he said, laughing again. He reached up and found the roll of paper towels hanging on the side of the refrigerator and pulled a couple off to wad up. He tossed them across the kitchen floor "There, chase those," he laughed as Strawberry skidded across the still damp part of the floor to chase after the wad of paper towels. He went back to scrubbing, but Strawberry was back to pounce.

"What, were you listening to Calleigh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm almost done, just this one last spot, ok? Then I'll take a break," he promised the cat, who meowed in response.

Calleigh really didn't have to worry about him getting worn out cleaning, he mused as he decided that stain really wasn't going to completely come clean. The cats wouldn't let him. He sighed as he stood up and stretched. Strawberry twined herself around his feet. "Better watch out if you don't want me dumping dirty water all over you," he warned as he grabbed the bucket to pour down the utility sink. He finished cleaning up the mess and washed up before digging through the fridge to make himself lunch. "There, happy now?" he asked, taking his sandwich to the table and sitting down. Strawberry sat on his feet and purred. "I guess so, huh?" he said. He smiled to himself as he finished his sandwich and tried to decide what to tackle next. He was bound and determined that the house would be completely clean by the time his parents showed up, whether Calleigh was happy about it or not.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * *

I find it hard to tell you  
I find it hard to take  
When people run in circles it's a very very  
Mad world

"Mad World", Gary Jules

* * *

The house was dark when she finally pulled into the driveway late that night. She let herself in and dumped her bag on a chair with a sigh. There was a light on in the kitchen, but the house was too quiet for Tim to still be up. She kicked off her shoes and wandered into the kitchen to find a note on the table.

_Hi Cal- There's chicken paprikash in the blue Tupperware in the fridge if you're hungry. I hope your day was ok and that it's not incredibly late when you got in. See you in the morning, maybe- Tim_

She glanced around the kitchen. It was sparkling clean. She shook her head, but didn't investigate the fridge. Dinner was the last thing on her mind by then. She really just wanted to take a shower and collapse. Stretching, she walked down the hall. Tim's bedroom door was half open to let the cats wander in and out as usual. She poked her head in to check on him.

He was asleep, but his restlessness had tangled him up in the blankets in a way that was going to leave him cold, if he wasn't already. She slipped into the room and walked over to the bed quietly.

"Cal?" he mumbled sleepily as she reached to straighten the blanket.

"I should hope so," she replied, smiling a bit.

"Mmm," he said, half cracking his eye open. "Time's it?"

"About 11," she said, helping him untangle himself from the blankets. She drew them back up over his shoulders and sat on the edge of the bed

"Ah," he yawned. "I made dinner, did you see?"

"I saw the note. I ate already, but I'll take it for lunch tomorrow, if that's ok," she said. "The kitchen looks great, though."

"Thanks. Oh, your dry-cleaning is hanging by the washer," he said.

"Thanks," she said. She'd intended to pick that up on her way home tonight, but the dry cleaner had been long since closed when she'd finally left the lab.

"Welcome," he said, squinting at her. "Bad case?" he asked, after a moment.

"Well, there's no really good time to get murdered, but finals week during your first semester of college has to be one of the worst," she sighed.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Long one?"

"No, actually. That's why I'm late- we made an arrest already," she said.

"Yeah?" he said.

She nodded. "Yeah. Apparently, there'd been some sort of drunken experimental one night stand that both parties weren't as ok with as they thought they were."

"That's a reason to kill someone?" he asked.

"Who knows?" she sighed. "Anyway, our perpetrator's roommate declined to give him an alibi and gave us enough for a warrant, and we found the gun that matched the bullets and a jacket that had the same fabric content of some fibers we found and it was all wrapped up in once nice neat package, so we arrested the kid."

"Well, that's something, anyway," he yawned.

"Mm-hm," she said. "I'm beat, I need a shower. Horatio called before I got the chance to take one this morning."

"So go take one," he said, sleepily.

"I am," she said. "Sleep tight."

"Mmm," he mumbled, as she stood up. "You too."

"Night, Tim," she said, pulling the door half shut on her way out.

She took her shower, but despite her exhaustion, she didn't go straight to bed, since she hated sleeping on wet hair. The hairdryer, however, would be sure to wake Tim and the cats up. So she took the book she was reading to the living room and settled down on the couch to read until her hair dried enough to no longer be cold.

The next thing she knew, someone was shaking her shoulder and calling her name. "Cal?"

Her eyes opened to find Tim standing over her. "Huh? What?"

"I thought you'd missed your alarm," he explained.

"What time's it?" she asked, sitting up.

"6:15," he said.

"Oh, God. Sorry," she said.

"No, it's fine. Did you sleep here all night?" he asked.

"Must have. I didn't mean to, I just didn't want to go to bed with wet hair," she said, vaguely. She glanced at the clock. "Oh, hell," she said, as the time actually sunk in. "I'm gonna be late."

"No, you're not. Go get dressed, I already put on the coffee," he said, walking over to the door to retrieve the newspaper.

"Right," she said, walking down the hall to her bedroom. She got herself together and dressed quickly, walked back to the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks. Sitting on the table was the blue Tupperware that presumably held the remainder of the chicken paprikash Tim had made the night before. On top of the container was an apple and a small bag of pretzels. She blinked at it and turned towards the kitchen and asked, "Did you make me lunch?"

"You don't have time to fuss about it, just sit and eat," Tim said, handing her a plate with two slices of French toast. He sat down with his own plate and the maple syrup. She joined him after a moment of staring blankly at him.

"Thanks," she said, as she started eating her breakfast. "I really appreciate it."

"Someone's gotta take care of you," he mumbled, not looking at her.

She didn't say anything, knowing it would just embarrass him. "I figured you'd go back to bed."

"No, I gotta get my teeth checked at 8," he said. "And then I've got Andy at 11."

"Ah," she said. "Are you going to talk to him about the counseling?"

He nodded as he took a bite. "Yeah. I want to do it before I think about it too much and make it harder."

"Makes sense," she said, finishing her toast and taking her plate to the sink. "What are you going to do after that?"

"The office, I think. I want to go through some of it, clean out the file boxes, clean up the computer, that kind of thing," he said. "I've been meaning to for awhile."

"Sounds good," she said. She glanced at her watch. "I've got to get going. You have a good day."

He nodded as she scooped up the lunch. "Cal?"

"Hmm?" she asked, looking back at him.

"It's going to be all right, you know? We'll make it all right," he said.

She looked at him in some surprise. "Ok," she said, finally.

"Have a good day," he said.

"Right, you too," she said, walking of the room and out the door, grabbing her bag on the way out.

She felt stunned as she got in the car and turned the key. In the nearly 5 years that she'd known Tim, she had never, ever, _ever_ once heard him be the least bit optimistic about _anything_. Ever. It had been all she could do to not stand there with her jaw dropped, or to ask if he was feeling sick, or to ask who it was sitting in front of her and what they'd done with Tim.

A horn honked behind her and brought her back from her shocked reverie. "It's a mad, mad world," she mumbled to her reflection in the rear view mirror as she turned down the road to the causeway.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

* * *

So are you gonna stand there  
Are you gonna help me out  
You need to be together now - I need you now  
Do you think you can cope  
You figured me out - I'm lost and I'm hopeless  
Bleeding and broken - though I've never spoken  
I come undone - in this mad season

"Mad Season", matchbox twenty

* * *

"Tim? Come on back," the nurse said as she poked her head into the waiting room. He swallowed and followed her.

"Here you go, can I get you a glass of water?" she asked, indicating a room for him to sit in.

"Sure," he said, nodding.

"Ok, I'll be right back," she said. He nodded as he sat down. "Here you go," she said, handing him a glass of ice water. "Dr. McCall will be right in, ok?"

"Thanks," he said. He fiddled with the glass for a moment before placing it very carefully on a coaster on the end table.

"Hi, there," Dr. McCall said, knocking on the door as he opened it.

"Hey," Tim said, glancing up.

"How're you doing?" The doctor sat a file folder down on the arm of the other chair and sat down.

"Um, ok, I guess," Tim said, nervously.

"Ok, you guess? You don't sound so sure of that," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "What's up?"

"Um, well…" Tim trailed off and glanced at his shoes. "How do I, I mean, I want…oh, hell, how do I do the counseling thing?" he asked in a rush.

"Your post-traumatic?"

"Yeah," he said, still not quite looking up.

"Wow. Well, this isn't the conversation I thought I was going to be having today. What brought this on?"

"Andy…" he whined.

"No, really, I'm curious now," Andy replied. "Why now?"

"Do I have to have a reason?" Tim asked.

"Yup."

He sighed. "Ok, it's like this. Calleigh needs some help, because she's really…I don't know, sad, about Eric and probably Hagen, and I told her if she went and got some help, I'd go on and do the post-traumatic."

Andy laughed. "Ok, that's a new one. You're going to get counseling because you want someone else to get counseling?"

"Well…yeah," he said, glancing up. "It's not that funny."

"It is, a little. I think I'm safe in saying that only you would come up with reasoning like that," Andy said, still amused.

"Ok, I don't think you're allowed to laugh at me. Isn't that in the rules somewhere," Tim said grumpily.

"Oh, probably. It's relief, more than anything, Tim. I was getting tired of not pushing you."

"Yeah, well, ok, now what?" he asked.

Andy shrugged. "You tell me."

"I hate it when you do that," he sighed.

"I know. Ok, here. Why have you been so resistant to the whole thing?" Andy asked.

"What do you mean?" Tim said, defensively.

"Well, from all reports," Andy said, tapping the file folder, "this isn't your first time doing this."

"So?" Tim said.

"So, what happened the other times?" Andy asked.

Tim shrugged. "Dunno."

"Yeah, you do. You were in counseling for awhile in high school, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

He shrugged again. "Something about being the youngest kid in the school or something, I don't remember."

"Did you dislike it?" Andy asked.

"Does anyone like this?" he asked. "No."

"Fair enough, no, I don't think people really like this sort of thing. But most people find it helps them feel better," Andy said. "Why did you dislike it?"

"I don't really remember," he said.

"Try harder," Andy said, raising an eyebrow.

He squirmed. "She twisted my words. She didn't understand," he admitted, finally.

"What didn't she understand?"

He sighed. "My family is a bit…not normal. She didn't get it. And she kept saying bad things about Marianne, my mother."

"Your counselor said bad things about your mom?"

"My mother, not my mom," he corrected automatically. "Marianne and my dad got divorced when I was a baby. She didn't raise me."

"Ah," Andy said. "And this counselor didn't understand that?"

"No, she didn't. And before you say anything, it's fine, ok?"

"Sure," Andy said, agreeably. Tim frowned at him. "No, really, Tim. I believe you. If you say you're fine about your mother, then you are. It's when you try to tell me you're fine about handguns that I'm not going to believe you."

He sighed. "You have the dispo day reports."

"I do," Andy said. "From the sounds of things, you're pretty talented when you want to dance around something."

He shrugged and shrank back into his chair. "I was fine."

"You weren't, but you put on a good show anyway. I'm not going to let you do that, you know," Andy said.

"Mmm," he said.

"Tim, what are you afraid of, here?" he asked.

"I'm not afraid of anything," he protested.

"Yes, you are. If you weren't afraid, we wouldn't have been dancing around this issue for the past two and a half months. Spill it, what are you afraid I'm going to say or do to you?" Andy said. He shrugged again, mute. "Are you afraid I'm not going to let you go back to work?"

He shrugged. He was, a little bit, but he wasn't even sure he wanted to go back to work, so it didn't matter.

Andy's eyes narrowed. "Are you afraid I'm going to think you're crazy?"

That was closer to the truth. He bit his lip, but didn't reply.

Andy leaned forward. "Tim, are you afraid I'm going to lock you up? Admit you to the hospital?" He started to suck on his bottom lip and looked away. "Ah," Andy said, leaning back. "There we go." He shook his head, half defiant. "Why do you think I'll lock you up? Do you think you need to be locked up?"

"No," he said.

"Well, then, why do you think I'm going to do that?" Andy asked, reasonably.

He shook his head again, this time more frantically. "I don't…they locked her up." He cursed his tongue and the way words seemed to spill out of his mouth so much more often now.

"Who did they lock up?" Andy asked.

"Marianne," he said, not looking up.

"How old were you?" Andy asked.

"About two months," he said, fidgeting with the cuff of his shirt sleeve.

"Post-partum depression?" Andy asked.

"Psychosis, I think," he said, nodding. "She said she was going to kill us, I guess. I don't know the whole story, I don't think."

Andy nodded. "But you know the important part."

He glanced up. "How's that?"

"The doctors- I'm assuming there were doctors involved?" Andy asked.

"Yeah, she went to the ER," Tim nodded.

"Ok, then. The doctors would have admitted her to what sounds like a closed psychiatric ward because she threatened to hurt herself and you. That's one of the reasons why we admit people to psychiatric wards," Andy explained. "We admit them when we think they're going to cause themselves physical harm or cause harm to others. You don't have any plans to hurt yourself right now, do you?"

"No," Tim said.

"You're not planning to hurt someone else, are you?"

"No," he said, shaking his head.

"Well, then you're safe so far. I think we can rule out the next criteria, too, which is having a severe mental illness that would be best treated in a hospital situation. I don't think you're hearing voices or hallucinating, or anything, are you?" Andy asked.

Tim froze. "I…well, define voices."

Andy raised his eyebrows. "Things like hearing someone telling you that, oh, the color orange is evil. Or that someone is trying to hurt you. Irrational things like that."

"Not like that, no," he said, hesitantly.

"Ok, for my own clarification, what kind of voices did you think I was talking about?" Andy asked. Tim fidgeted with his shirt for a full minute without speaking. "Tim?"

"There's…the inside of my head kinda…talks to me, sometimes. When I was sick. Or kind of upset," he admitted, finally.

"Ah. What does it say?"

He shrugged. "Told me it was ok. It would be better. And that I should tell someone what was going on."

"I see. I think that's just how your brain is processing all this," Andy said. "It's not too unusual. I know people who talk to themselves all the time."

"Oh," he said, feeling a bit relieved. The voice had _said_ he wasn't schizophrenic, but he hadn't quite trusted it….

"Ok, so we can rule out severe mental illness. And you're functioning pretty well, all things considered, so we can rule that one out. So I think you're safe here, Tim. I don't see any reason for me to lock you up and throw away the key," Andy said.

"Oh," he said, in a small voice. "You don't think I'm crazy?"

"You're depressed, you've probably got more than a bit of a post-traumatic stress disorder, and some anxiety issues, but you're not "crazy", no," Andy said. "I'd venture a guess that this all extends past what happened in September, but that what happened was just the last straw for your brain."

"Oh," Tim said, again. "Yeah, ok."

"Am I right?" Andy asked.

He sighed, but nodded. "Probably."

"You want to begin at the beginning, or from the end?" Andy asked, settling back in his chair. "Or the middle, even. Pick a spot. Tell me what the deal is, here."

He sighed again. "It's like this…" He closed his eyes and launched into the whole story all over again.

About an hour later, he was standing in the parking lot with shaking hands, staring at his car. He wasn't allowed to ride his bike for another month, at least, so he was confined to the car. The car he'd had forever. He tried to make himself open the door, but failed for the third time. "This is ridiculous," he muttered. But the catch in his chest told him that trying again would really make the panic attack he was mostly suppressing break through.

He walked away, back towards the medical building where there was a bench under a tree. He sat down and took several deep breaths, trying to quell the shaking of his hands. It worked well enough to let him fumble his cell phone out of his pocket. He didn't want to call Calleigh; she was having a bad enough time this week. He dialed Alexx, but got the voice mail. The next person on the list was Horatio.

"Caine," came the answer.

"H?" he asked, half breathlessly.

"Speed? What's up? Are you ok?" Horatio's concern was immediate and genuine.

"This is stupid, but I kinda…I sort of need a ride," he admitted.

"Ok, where are you?" Horatio asked.

"Biscayne Medical Center," he said.

"All right. Sit tight, I'll be there in about fifteen, ok?" Horatio asked. "You're ok?"

"Yeah, I'm…well, ok enough, anyway," he said.

"Hang in there, buddy. I'll be there soon," Horatio said, hanging up.

Horatio's word was as good as always. Fifteen minutes later, he was standing in front of Tim with a concerned look on his face. "You all right?" Tim sighed and nodded. "What happened?"

He sighed again. "It's stupid."

"It's probably not," Horatio said, sitting down next to him.

"I couldn't get in the car," he admitted.

"Ah." Horatio thought that over for a moment. "Come on," he said, standing up and nudging Tim's shoulder. "Let's go take a walk."

Tim pushed himself off of the bench and followed Horatio down to the running path that led down to a strip of beach. They walked in silence for awhile until they came to another bench over looking the beach. "Ok, now that we're not staring the car in the face, what was it that made you not want to get into it?" Horatio asked.

"I…I told Andy, Dr. McCall, that I wanted to do the post-traumatic. And then I wound up telling him about Jason, and then I couldn't get into the car," he said, finally.

"Ah," Horatio said. "Speed, is that the same car you took off in?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Ah," Horatio said, again, in a tone of complete understanding. "I see."

"Yeah," he shrugged.

"You're doing the post-traumatic?" Horatio asked.

"Yeah. He said he was going to see if he could get permission from the department to do it. Or he'll refer me to someone," he explained.

"Have you made up your mind yet? About coming back to work?" Horatio asked, looking at him sidelong.

He sighed. "I don't know. It's…it's the next step, either way. And…" he hesitated, not sure how much he should say. But he thought he could trust Horatio not to say anything to anyone else, and really, he ought to know if Calleigh was having trouble. Not only was he their boss, he was Calleigh's friend, too. "You can't say anything, ok?"

"Ok," Horatio said, agreeably.

"Calleigh's not doing so well, you know, with everything," he admitted.

"I know. I've noticed," Horatio said.

"Ok, good. Well, we made a deal, that if I did the counseling, she'd go talk to someone," he said.

"I see," Horatio said.

"I don't…she wanted me to get help. And I did, I am," he said. "But she could use some too."

"No, I agree," Horatio said.

"Ok," Tim said. "But I don't know if…I'm still scared."

"I know," Horatio said. "What do you really want?" he asked, after a moment.

"I don't understand," Tim said.

"Why did you become a CSI in the first place?" Horatio asked.

"Megan gave me a job," he replied.

"Did you want to be a CSI?" Horatio asked.

He shrugged. "I hadn't really thought about it. I needed to do something. It was kind of by default."

"Ok, answer me this. If you hadn't been a CSI, if you never came to Miami, what would you have done?" Horatio asked.

Tim's eyes widened. He had no idea. "I…don't know."

"If the accident hadn't happened, what would you have done?" Horatio asked.

He shook his head, violently. "Don't ask that."

Horatio held up his hands. "All right. I'm sorry."

"No," he said, "It's ok…I just…I don't want to talk about that. It didn't happen that way, it happened the way it did."

Horatio nodded. "I shouldn't have asked that, I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "It's fine. But I don't really have an answer for that."

"It's ok if you don't know what you want. You don't have to make a decision now," Horatio reminded him.

"No, I do. I need…I can't keep doing this," he said. "I need to know what's going to happen next." The bubble of panic was back and he clenched his hands to keep them from shaking.

"Ok, ok," Horatio said, soothingly. "Then we'll figure it out."

"Ok," he said, quietly.

"I think," Horatio said, finally, "that you're concentrating on the details too much. You're too close in, you've got to back up for the big picture. I think there's really only two choices here: come back, or don't. Forget about what happens when you get back."

"That makes sense," Tim said, nodding.

"All right, then. Megan gave you a job, but you liked it, didn't you?" It was a statement, more than a question, but he nodded in agreement.

"Yeah. I did."

"Can you think of anything else that you love as much?" Horatio asked.

He sat back and sighed. "I'm not really good for much else."

"I don't think that's at all true, I think you could be great at whatever you wanted to do," Horatio said. "But I think that you don't want to."

He blinked. He really didn't want to find something else, he realized. "No," he said, slowly.

"There you go, then," Horatio said. "I think you've wanted to come back all along, but you're scared and you're afraid that means you can't come back."

He nodded again. "Yeah."

"It's ok to be scared. It really is. I'd be more concerned if you weren't. You have a job, no matter what, ok? I'll find something for you if you can't handle the field or if you can't handle the lab. Alexx will take you in a heartbeat," Horatio said, smiling. "We can cross all those bridges when we come to them. I'm not just saying that because I really want you back- although I do. I don't think you'll be happy if you don't at least try to come back."

"Yeah," he said. "You're right, I think."

"Good." Horatio said. "Because I wasn't kidding when I said I wanted you back. We need you."

"I know, I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be sorry. None of it is your fault," Horatio said. Tim shrugged, and they lapsed into silence again. "You think you might be ready to face the car again?" Horatio asked.

He shook his head. "I don't think I can drive right now." His hands were still shaky and he was half dizzy, both from relief at making a decision and from his earlier reaction.

"Can you face my car?" Horatio asked.

"I think so," he said.

"Then I'll take you home. We'll figure out how to get your car back later, ok?" Horatio said, standing up.

"Ok," he said, letting Horatio lead him back up to the parking lot.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * *

The world's on fire  
It's more than I can handle  
Tap into the water, try to bring my share  
Try to bring more, more than I can handle  
Bring it to the table  
Bring what I am able

"World on Fire", Sarah McLachlan

* * *

Calleigh sighed as she turned the page to see what else she needed to include in the testimony she was writing. Writing testimony was her least favorite part of the job. She didn't mind giving it on the stand- Lord knew she had enough practice, what with the proliferation of ballistics evidence in this town. But she hated writing it. Despite being the daughter of a lawyer, she'd never quite captured the cadences of courtroom testimony in her writing.

But it had to be done, and it really should have been done yesterday. The DA hadn't managed to catch up with her yesterday because she'd been so busy, but her reprieve had ended this morning with a message that her testimony needed to be in the DA's inbox by the close of business. She'd been tempted to remind him that Miami never closes, but that was Horatio's line, and besides, it wouldn't have made any difference. Thankfully, she was nearly done. _Finish this last question, and I can go do something more exciting. Like cataloging bullets,_ she thought.

Scott was puttering around with some training exercises behind her. She'd almost forgotten he was there when she heard him sneeze. "Bless you. Wash your hands," she said, automatically, not looking up.

"Thanks," he said, but didn't move towards the sink.

"Wash your hands," she said, again, glancing up.

"All right, all right," he muttered, as he went to do so. "You don't have to be so anal about the hand washing. Christ."

She looked at him. "Yes, I do. It's the single best way to keep from spreading infection."

"Yeah, so?" he said, shrugging. "It's not that big of a deal. I don't have the flu or anything."

"It _is_ a big deal. It's a very big deal when you live with someone who's got a compromised immune system," she snapped, harshly.

Scott looked at her in surprise and looked like he was about to say something, when something behind her caught his glance. "I'm sorry, I didn't know," he said and turned towards the sink.

Calleigh didn't look behind her. She had a feeling she knew who was standing there.

"Calleigh," Horatio said calmly. She winced and turned. "Would you come with me a moment?"

She sighed, stood up and followed Horatio out of the room. They walked up the stairs to his office in silence. She tried not to feel like a small child being escorted to the principal's office, but it was difficult. He ushered her into the office and indicated a chair as he closed the door behind them. She didn't even wait for him to sit down before launching into an explanation. "Horatio, I'm sorry, I know, I know, I shouldn't have snapped at Scotty, but it _is_ important. It's really important. Tim's gained two pounds in the three weeks since they got the braces on him and put his jaw into alignment. It's the first net gain he's had since September. The doctor said it may be that he's turned the corner, finally. If he gets sick, those two pounds are gone, just like that, and probably five more with them. And he's not even 90 days post-op yet, and the first 90 days are the most critical for fighting infection, they said, and he's still got almost no reserves to fight with, so if he gets sick _now_, it'll delay him for weeks, if not months. He's going to get sick this winter, it's almost a guarantee, but if I can keep that from happening for just a few more weeks, he'll be that much stronger when it happens," she said, in a rush. "He just…I just…just a little more time," she sighed.

Horatio just let her run out of words. She wound down and sat there, with him watching her. "When was your last day off?" he asked, finally.

"Oh, I don't know," she sighed. "Last Thursday, maybe? I have Sunday off."

Horatio nodded. "I think you might be working too hard," he said.

"What? Oh, no, I'm fine. There's just a lot going on," she said, waving his concern away.

"You're not fine, Calleigh," Horatio said gently. "You've been going without a break for three months. You're going to wear yourself out, and that's not going to do you or Speed any good at all, because if _you_ get sick, then _he's_ definitely going to get sick. And that's just what you're trying to prevent, isn't it?"

She shook her head. "I can't stop, I don't have the time."

He tilted his head. "I can _make_ the time. In fact, I'm going to make the time for you."

"What do you mean?" she asked, frowning.

"You're going to go down and finish what you were working on. And then you're going to turn everything over to me and go home. And not come back until January 1st," he said, calmly.

"What? Horatio, I have no leave time left, at all!" she exclaimed. "It's the 16th. I can't be gone for two weeks."

"You can if I put you on leave," Horatio said.

"You can't do that," she protested weakly.

"I can. I will. Calleigh, I told Speed the same thing in September. What makes you think I wouldn't do the same for you?" he asked.

She shook her head and slumped back in her chair. "All right," she surrendered.

"Good. Now, the rest will probably help, but I think you ought to consider some other help as well," Horatio said.

"God, not you too," she sighed. "Did Tim put you up to this?"

"He did not, no," Horatio said. "Why?"

"Because he made me a deal about his post traumatic counseling, that he'd go if I went and talked to someone," she said.

"Ah," Horatio said. "It would be a good idea."

"Mmm," she said, closing her eyes. She didn't really want to. She didn't think she was so badly off as all that, first of all, and second of all, there was the whole child of alcoholics issue that tended to come up with these sorts of things. And if she barely had the energy to deal with Eric and John's deaths, she really did not have the energy to deal with her parents. "If I need to talk to someone, and Tim needs to talk to someone, what about you?" she asked, pointedly, opening her eyes to glare at him.

"I did already," he said.

"You did?" she asked, surprised.

He nodded. "You were right, in North Carolina. I was a bit…unsteady."

She snorted. "That's one word for it, I suppose."

"At any rate," he said, raising an eyebrow at her. "When we got back, I decided I should probably do something about that, if I wanted to ever have a chance at getting some control over the chaos going on around here."

"I see," she said. "Humph."

He smiled a bit. "I can recommend some people, if you like. Either departmentally or outside."

She sighed. "All right," she said.

"Good," he said. "I'm only doing this because I care about you. You know that, right?"

"I know," she sighed. "I do, really. Tim said the same thing, more or less."

"Good," he said, again. He turned towards his desk and scribbled something on a piece of paper for a moment. "Here. The first two are through Psych Services here. The third is a friend of a friend," he said, handing her the paper.

She folded it and put it in her pocket. "Thanks."

"Anytime. Go finish up your testimony and get out of here, ok? Call me if you need anything," he said, standing up.

"I will," she promised as she pushed herself up and went back downstairs.

Scott was still in the room where she'd left her papers. She steeled herself for a frosty reception as she walked through the doorway. He glanced up, but didn't say anything. "Scotty, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you," she said, contritely.

"It's all right," he said. "I'm sorry I didn't know better."

"Oh, that's not your fault. Look, here's what happened," she said. "I moved in with Tim Speedle after what happened at the warehouse because he needed someone to stay with him while he's recovering. One of the things that happened was that they had to remove his spleen to stop some internal bleeding when he was hurt. You can live without a spleen just fine, but it makes you more susceptible to infection. The other thing that happened was that because of his other injuries, he couldn't eat real food for more than a month, and even when he could, it was still really difficult. He's lost a lot of weight, and he was a pretty skinny guy to begin with, so it got pretty scary for awhile. So, not only is it easier for him to get sick, but he's not really in good condition to fight anything off or get better if he does get sick."

"Wow. I didn't know. I mean, they told us he'd been really badly hurt, obviously, but not what happened. And none of us wanted to ask, because you all didn't need us being nosy," Scott replied.

She smiled. "It's ok. I'm sorry we made you guys feel out of the loop."

"No, no," he said, shaking his head. "Not at all. Look, Calleigh, you and Horatio and the rest of the lab have been amazingly patient and kind to me and Kiara and Jack, given that we all know that the only reason _we're_ here is because people you cared a lot about aren't."

She blinked back sudden tears. "Thank you," she said, after a moment, when she thought she might have her voice under control. "Thank you for understanding."

"You're welcome. Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked.

She smiled tiredly. "Not really. Thank you for offering. I'm going to finish this up and then call it a day. Horatio's giving me some time off."

"Ok, good. You have a good rest, then, ok?" he said, gathering up his own things.

"I will," she said. "Thanks."

"No problem. And I hope Tim keeps getting better. Will he be back soon, you think?"

She nodded. "We don't know exactly when, yet, but I'm guessing he'll be cleared to work sometime in the next month or two. So not much longer, I hope."

"Good. I'm looking forward to meeting him and I know Jack and Kiara are, too," Scott nodded.

She smiled. "I'll tell him so. I think he'll be pleased."

Scott smiled back. "Ok, then. I'll see you later."

"Later," she said. She closed her eyes a moment before turning back to the papers in front of her. Time to finish this and get out of here.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

* * *

I'm finding my way back to sanity again  
though I don't really know what I'm gonna do when I get there  
and take a breath and hold on tight  
spin around one more time  
and gracefully fall back to the arms of grace

'cause I am hanging on every word you say and  
even if you don't want to speak tonight  
that's alright, alright with me

"Breathing", Lifehouse

* * *

He heard the front door open and knew it was Calleigh from what she said to whichever cat was trying to escape. He was too tired to call out to her; Horatio had brought him home some time ago and he'd been curled up on his bed ever since, just laying limply, hoping his head would stop hurting and let him sleep. It wasn't working.

Calleigh moved through the house. His ears tracked her as she went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, then moved down the hall to her bedroom. She emerged from the bedroom and he saw her glance at his door, then stop. "Hey," she said, coming into the room. "I didn't think you were here. Where's your car?"

"The medical center," he said, in a half cracked voice.

"Is it ok?" she asked, sitting on the side of the bed. He nodded. "Are _you_ ok?"

He shrugged. "I guess."

"What happened?" she asked, stretching out next to him. She looked tired, too.

"I kinda freaked out when it was time to get in the car. H came and gave me a ride. I didn't want to bug you with it," he replied.

"You wouldn't have been bugging me," she said, shaking her head.

"I know. But I didn't figure you needed to deal with me being stupid on top of everything else," he said.

"It's not stupid, Tim," she rebuked him, gently.

"Mmm," he said.

She was quiet a moment. "So that's where Horatio went," she said, finally.

"Hm?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Around lunchtime, he told me he was going to take care of something and he'd be back," she said. "He must have been going to get you."

"Yeah," he nodded.

"Well, good," she sighed.

Tim realized suddenly that it was still awfully bright outside for Calleigh to be home already. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Around 3:30," she replied.

"What are you doing home so early?" he asked, frowning.

She sighed. "Horatio kicked me out and told me not to come back until the 1st," she admitted.

"He did?" he asked, his eyebrows climbing.

"Yeah," she sighed.

"And here I thought I was the only one who got those sorts of orders," he said, looking at her. "Are you ok? What happened?"

"I'm fine. Just tired. He says I've been working too hard and need a break, that's all," she reassured him.

He gave her a skeptical look. "Um, ok?"

She sighed again. "Ok, I lost my temper with Scotty and I guess that was the last straw for Horatio."

"Ah," he said. He didn't ask why she lost her temper. She probably wouldn't tell him. "So you get some time off."

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Are you going to go to Louisiana, then?" he asked.

She sighed. "I don't know. I should, but to be honest, I was really kind of relieved that I had an excuse to say I wasn't coming."

"Oh," he said, understanding.

"My dad is going to be there, and he's going to try and convince my mom to come to Miami, and she's going to try to convince him to come back to Darnell, and they'll fight about his drinking and her spending habits. And then Kenny and Marybeth will be there with their two kids, who are adorable, but they're really spoiled brats, because Kenny is trying to prove something about parenting, but he's really not doing a great job at it. So Mom will get on his case about the kids, and he'll get all stubborn and shirty with her, and the whole thing will be just one huge bickering session," she said, scrubbing a hand across her face. "Honestly, I don't think I have the energy for it."

"So don't go," Tim shrugged. "Stay here and have Christmas with us. My parents were kind of looking forward to seeing you anyway."

"They were?" she asked, surprised.

"Yeah, Mom asked if you were going to be in town. I said you'd be working, so yes. She said good," he said. "I don't know exactly how entertaining it'll be, though. My brother wants to go to Ft. Lauderdale to go to a grocery store, if that gives you any sort of idea of what kind of people I'm related to. I doubt you got the full flavor in September."

She laughed. "They don't have grocery stores in Syracuse?"

"They do. Matt and my parents all have a thing about food and he went to this store while he was visiting colleges somewhere and thought it was the best thing ever. He and my dad are having a running debate as to whether it could possibly be as good as this other store in Syracuse, so they're going to settle the bet while they're down here. We'll probably get a good meal or two out of it, though, so I guess it's worth it," he said.

"Are you looking forward to seeing them?" she asked.

"I am, actually," he admitted.

"Then why are you nervous about it? You've been cleaning like a madman," she said.

He sighed. "This…this is only the second time they've been to Miami, not counting September. And the first time was when we were still fighting, and they called the house a pit. So, I don't know, I just want it to be as nice as it can be. Because it's the first time they've offered to come for a holiday, you know?"

"Ah," she said. "But they've seen the house, they know it's a nice place. They said so, when they were here."

"Yeah, but...I don't know. It's a big deal, you know, and I just want them to know that I know that," he said, as he fidgeted with the edge of the pillowcase.

"You don't want to give them a reason to fight with you?" she asked.

"No, it's not that. We stopped fighting a long time ago. There won't be fighting, I promise," he said, looking at her.

"What happened back then?' she asked. He sighed. "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," she added.

"No, it's just that most of it was really stupid. All right, here. I went back to New York to finish my degree, right? Well, I refused to go to Syracuse the entire time I was there. They didn't like that very much. And then, I left again and came back to Miami. They didn't understand why I would do that and they didn't understand why I decided to become a CSI. Hell, I didn't understand it, either, so it's not like I could explain it to them. So, they thought it would just be a phase and I'd come back to Syracuse. Except I didn't, and had no intention of doing so, either. I'd been here maybe two years when I decided to buy the house. I told them I was thinking about it, and they came down the week I closed on it to try and stop me and talk me into going home. The whole thing was a mess. The screaming match went on for so long that I showed up at work the next day with no voice and a broken blood vessel in one eye, that's how hard we were yelling at each other. Marianne had to step in and tell them to go home and leave me alone," he said. It almost felt good to explain it to her, to tell someone who would understand messy family situations, so he kept going.

"We didn't talk for about a year. Well, they had a reason to call me, finally, and we started talking again, but probably 9 times out of 10, the phone calls would dissolve into sniping at each other and someone slamming down the phone mid-sentence. My dad finally caught me on a really bad day and started in on something, I don't even remember what, and I snapped. I told them, look, if all you're going to do is fight with me, then don't call me, don't talk to me. I'm tired and I don't want to fight anymore. Leave me alone if that's all you're going to do. So then we didn't talk for another six months, until my dad _had_ to call me to tell me about something that was going on back home. I thanked him for calling and was about to hang up, when he said, "no, wait. You're my son, and I don't know who you are anymore, but I still love you and this is stupid. I don't want to fight anymore either." And that was the end of it," he explained.

"Wow," Calleigh said. "I get it now."

"Yeah. That was probably five years ago now, but we haven't had a serious argument since. They took awhile to calm down about me not coming home for holidays, but they did. It's been a lot of work, but they know who I am now and I know who they are and it's a lot easier. It's still hard sometimes…well, you know that as well as anyone, you've heard me talk to them. But, you know, I'm glad, too. It probably helps that Matt grew up and wanted to go into the restaurant, and I always wanted anything _but_ to take over the restaurant," he sighed. "But Matt loves it. He'll be good at it, too, I think."

"There's a big gap between you two, isn't there?" Calleigh asked.

"Yeah, he's 17. He'll be 18 in February. He's a pretty cool kid, really. He decided all on his own that he wanted to know me- we left him out of it when we were arguing. He was too young to understand most of it, and besides, he hadn't seen me since he was about 5. But he goes to the same high school I did, and about two years ago, he started getting teachers that I'd had when I was there, and between talking to them, and talking to some of the rest of our family, he pieced together some of what happened that no one had really explained to him. The fights and why I left and why I didn't come back, that sort of thing. And then he broke into my mom's email and found my email address and wrote this long email introducing himself. He said he figured I wouldn't really know much about him, so he'd better fill me in on everything. So we've been emailing back and forth, since then. He's absolutely nothing like me; it's amusing. He's the kid my parents should have had when they had me," he smiled. "I gather he was a hell of a lot easier on them than I was."

Calleigh laughed. "I can't imagine."

"Yeah, well," he said. "I'd be jealous, but it's too much effort. He's just too earnest to be jealous of him."

"That's nice," she said.

"So, that's the story," he said, yawning. "You'll probably get more when they get here."

"I was meaning to ask you if you wanted me to go back to my place while they were here," Calleigh said.

He blinked at her. "Why? I mean, if you really want to, but you don't have to. They know you're here. They don't care. Actually, they're pretty glad of it."

"Well, I didn't want it to be awkward for you. And I didn't know where you'd put everyone to sleep if I was here," she said.

He shrugged. "I was thinking that I'd move in with you in the guest bedroom, my parents could sleep in here, and Matt can have the air mattress in the living room. Or if you didn't want to share, I'd take the air mattress and Matt could have the couch."

"I don't mind sharing with you, no," she said. "We do more often than not lately, anyway."

"That's about what I figured," he said, yawning again. It was past his usual naptime and it was finally catching up with him.

"Your parents aren't going to like kicking you out of your bed, you know. Why don't we stay in here and they can have the guest room. I'll move some stuff out of the dresser so they have some room," she said.

"Whichever," he said, closing his eyes.

"Ok, then," she said. They were quiet for a moment. "It's funny, I was just thinking that it would be awfully lonely to go back to my apartment after having lived here with you and the cats for so long. I kinda like it here."

"Then don't go," he mumbled sleepily. "Just stay here. I kinda like it that you're here. No sense in going back and us both being lonely."

If she replied, he didn't hear it. But he felt her hand brush though his hair as he finally dropped off to sleep completely.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

* * *

It's not as easy as willing it all to be right  
Gotta be more than hoping it's right  
I wanna hear you laugh like you really mean it  
Collapse into me, tired with joy

"Hands Open", Snow Patrol

* * *

Calleigh opened the front door on Sunday afternoon to find Horatio standing on the doorstep. "Hey," she said, with a smile. She'd about forgotten that he'd said he'd come by on Sunday.

"Hi," he said, smiling back.

"Hang on," she said, sticking a foot out to block Toast from darting out. "Oh, no you don't, Mr. Escape Artist," she said, pushing him back. "Come on in," she said, to Horatio.

"Does he do that every time the door opens?" Horatio asked.

"Most times," she said. "I don't think Tim even notices it anymore. I've gotten used to it."

"Where is Speed, anyway?" he asked. "I didn't see his car."

"He went to the store," she shrugged. "He was going to clean off the back porch and discovered the spray nozzle for the hose was broken."

"Ah," Horatio said. "So, how are you doing? Have you been relaxing?"

"If you call steam cleaning the carpets relaxing, sure," she said, shrugging.

"Why on Earth would you be steam cleaning the carpets?" Horatio asked, confused.

She sighed. "Tim's parents are coming on Tuesday. He's going a bit crazy with the cleaning."

"Ah," Horatio nodded. "I thought it looked a little cleaner than usual in here."

"A little?" she asked, incredulously. "Horatio, this place is gleaming. It's practically blinding!"

He shrugged. "Is it keeping him out of trouble?"

"Well, yes," she admitted.

"And is it keeping him from panicking?" he asked.

"Mostly, I think, yes," she admitted.

"Then let him clean," Horatio shrugged.

"I just don't want him tiring himself out. He's still not supposed to be doing really strenuous things," she said. "To be fair, though, he did wait and let me help with most of the heavy stuff."

"Good," Horatio said. "He'll be fine, Calleigh."

"I know," she said. "But I really don't know what he's going to do after they go. They're not clearing him to go back to work for at least another month."

"Yes, I saw the schedule," Horatio nodded.

"You saw the post-traumatic schedule," Calleigh said. "I doubt he mentioned that aside from the counseling that the doctors won't clear him medically until he gains a total of 10 pounds."

"That might take awhile," Horatio allowed. "How many does he have to go?"

"Seven," she sighed. "And he's barely averaging a pound a week. So it's looking more like mid-February, or even March. He's going to get bored long before that. Hell, I think more than a little of this cleaning frenzy is boredom anyway. I don't really want to think about what sort of trouble he could get up to if he's out of work for another two months. It's more than wonderful that he's really starting to feel better, but…"

Horatio nodded. "But Speed doesn't handle boredom very well," he finished.

"Exactly," she sighed.

"Well, I have an idea to deal with that," he said.

"You do?" Calleigh asked, surprised.

"I do." Horatio confirmed. "I don't know if he'll go for it, though."

"What is it?" she asked.

Horatio pulled a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket and handed it to her. "I thought that since he was still going to be out of work for several weeks yet, he might consider something like this."

She unfolded the paper and found a description of a graduate program in forensics and criminology offered at UM. "Huh," she said. "I don't know," she said, finally. "It would probably keep him out of trouble, sure enough, but I'd be concerned it would give him something else to obsess over. He uses work to avoid things, you know that, right?"

Horatio nodded. "I know, but I'd think obsession requires more energy than he has right now."

She laughed. "You'd be surprised." She folded the paper back up. "Ask him, I guess. But don't be surprised if he's resistant to the idea. From what he's said, he didn't exactly enjoy college."

"Who didn't enjoy college?" Tim said, as he came through the breezeway door carrying a box of pizza and a handful of shopping bags.

"I didn't even hear you pull up," Calleigh said, frowning as she came forward to take the pizza box from him.

He shrugged. "Who didn't enjoy college?" he repeated. "Hi, H."

"You didn't, apparently," Horatio said, nodding hello.

"Oh," Tim said, setting the bags on the table. "I don't know if that's entirely true," he said, as he started to unpack the bags. "There were some things I liked. I liked the classes well enough, most of the time."

"Ah," Calleigh said. "What did you get at Target?" she asked, half out of a desire to distract from the conversation she and Horatio had been having about him, and half out of wonderment that he'd braved Target five days before Christmas.

"New bedsheets," he said, glancing up at her.

"Oh…ok…" she said, blinking.

"You said the sheets on the bed were getting threadbare," he said, as he shoved the bags into the bag holder on the inside of the breezeway door. "So I got new ones."

"You're right, I just didn't expect you'd go get new sheets right away," she explained.

He shrugged. "I was right by there. You staying for dinner, H?"

"Sure," Horatio said, nodding.

"Good thing I got the large pizza, then," he said, nodding. "I'm going to throw the sheets in the washer, I'll be right back."

Calleigh and Horatio exchanged a look as he left the room. She shrugged. "Well, all right then."

"I guess," Horatio said, shrugging back.

She shook her head bemusedly as she got some plates and glasses. "There's sweet tea and there's Coke," she said.

"Tea is fine," Horatio said, accepting the plates.

"Tim? You want tea or Coke?" she called out.

"Whichever," he called back.

"Tea it is, then," she said, getting the pitcher from the fridge.

Tim reappeared and sat down. "So, why does it matter that I didn't like college?" he asked, as he took a slice of pizza.

"Well, I was thinking, since you'll be on leave yet for awhile, you might want something to do," Horatio said, after a glance at Calleigh. "So, I talked to someone I know over at UM and she pointed out that they've got a graduate program for forensics and criminology," he said, handing over the sheet of paper.

Tim took it, and read it. "Hmm," he said, looking thoughtful as he took a bite of pizza. "Aren't I likely to know most of this already?" he asked.

"Well, I did talk to someone in the department, and they did say that with 10 years of experience, they'd be more than willing to let you test out of a fair amount of the introductory classes if you wanted to do the degree program," Horatio replied. "So, yes, it's likely you'll know a lot, but I think there might be enough to challenge you a bit. And there are options for independent research, which I think you'd like," he added. "You never get enough time to play with the stuff that interests you at the lab. We're always too busy trying to get results."

"True," he said. "But H, I'm on short term disability right now. And that's just barely enough to pay the mortgage and the bills. I don't think I can afford to do this."

"The department would pay for it, Speed," Horatio said.

He laughed a bit. "What, like they aren't spending enough money on me right now?"

"Tim, you were injured in the line of duty. The department is obligated to pay for your recovery," Calleigh pointed out.

"I know. And I'm glad they are, because I doubt I could," he said. "I'm just saying, isn't asking for tuition money a bit much?"

"Different budgets," Horatio said. "Besides, you're more than eligible for job-related education expenses. You have been for years. Trust me, the department will pay for it."

"Mmm," Tim said, leaning back in his chair.

"Plus, this would give you some options for later," Horatio said. "Just in case."

"Just in case I decide not to go back into the field, you mean," Tim said, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes," Horatio nodded.

Speed nodded slowly. "Ok, I'll buy that." He tilted his head and looked at Calleigh. "You don't like the idea," he said.

She shrugged. "I don't know. It depends on whether you're likely to get as obsessive over school as you are with work."

He smiled. "Ah," he said. He took another bite of pizza as he seemed to consider his answer. "I don't think that's very likely."

"You don't?" Calleigh asked, raising her eyebrows at him. "You were awfully single minded about school, from what I hear."

"Sure, yes, I was," he said. "I had reason to be."

"And you don't now?" Calleigh said.

He sighed. "Not…not for the same reasons," he said, slowly. "No, I think it would be different, now."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" Calleigh started to apologize, but he waved it off.

"No, it's fine. Really. But that's not why I think it would be different this time," he said.

"Why would it, then?" Horatio asked.

"Well, for one thing, I'd be doing this because I wanted to, not because I was…trying to fix something," he said, chewing on his bottom lip. He smiled suddenly at Calleigh. "And besides, I highly doubt either of you two, Alexx _or_ Andy would let me get obsessive about anything right now, anyway."

"Well, there is that," Calleigh admitted.

"True," Horatio agreed.

"So this is viable, then," he said, looking at Calleigh.

"All right, yes," she relented. "You're right."

He smirked at her, and she kicked him under the table. "Ow," he complained. She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed. Horatio just raised an eyebrow at the two of them. "All right, then," he said. "But I don't see how I'd be able to do this right now. Wouldn't I have to apply and start in the fall and all that?"

"You would have to go and talk to someone in the department," Horatio said. "But they're apparently willing to let you register for a class or two as a non-degree student for the winter quarter. And then once you're officially in the program, those credits would apply retroactively."

"If I get in," Tim said.

"Oh, come on, Tim. You graduated from Columbia with honors and you have 10 years of experience in the field. I can't imagine them _not_ accepting you," Calleigh said. "_They_ might even pay for you to do it."

He shrugged. "It might be pretty competitive. And my records from Columbia aren't entirely… impressive. There's that nice big gap in the middle and the semester of failing grades because I didn't exactly bother to withdraw properly when I skipped town. I graduated with honors, sure, but that was due to my thesis work, not my GPA."

"I imagine they'll take your experience into account more than your GPA, Speed," Horatio pointed out.

"Yeah," Calleigh nodded. "You've done more than enough to account for that."

"Maybe," he said, his face twisting into one of his more inscrutable expressions. Calleigh was never quite sure if that expression meant he agreed with what was being said, or if he was mentally berating himself for some imagined weakness. "I'd have to take the GREs, I bet," he sighed.

"More than likely, yes," Horatio said.

He laughed quietly. "I haven't taken a standardized test since I was maybe 16."

"Other than departmental exams," Calleigh said.

"Doesn't count. Not really," Tim said. "The rank is illusionary, anyway."

"It is not," she said.

He shook his head. "Yours isn't. Mine is." She opened her mouth to protest that, but he shook his head again. "It's fine, Cal. I have reasons, ok?"

She sighed. "Fine." Obviously there was something he didn't want to tell her. She glanced sidelong at Horatio, surprised that he hadn't contradicted Tim with her, but he just looked at her expressionlessly over the rim of his glass. "I think you can handle the GRE, Tim," she said, moving the conversation onward.

"Oh, probably," he said, shrugging. "It's just been awhile. It's amusing."

"So you think you want to do this?" Horatio asked.

"I think you two are just looking for a way to keep me out of trouble, is what I think," Tim replied.

"The thought had crossed my mind," Horatio admitted.

Tim laughed. "Thought so. I'll think about it, how's that."

"Sure," Horatio said. "You've got until the 3rd to really make up your mind, they said."

"Ok," he said. "Anyone want to help wash the back porch?" he asked as he pushed away from the table.

"No, not really," Calleigh said. "It can wait for the morning, can't it? It's getting dark."

He smiled. "I was kidding, Cal. I'm gonna do it in the morning."

She rolled her eyes. "Lovely."

"Well, my folks are really looking forward to not being buried under a foot of snow. I'm guessing we'll be using the porch, so it might be nice if the furniture was at least somewhat clean," he said, shrugging.

"Fair enough," Calleigh said. "But not tonight."

"No, not tonight," he agreed.

"Good, because I'm tired," she said. "And I'm supposed to be relaxing," she added, looking at Horatio.

"She has a point," Horatio agreed.

"Fine, fine," Tim said, throwing up his hands. "What's relaxing?"

"I don't know about you, but I could stand another round in the perpetual Trivial Pursuit tournament," she said, grinning slyly.

"Getting your ass kicked is relaxing?" he countered.

"Who said I was getting my ass kicked? I'm ten points behind Horatio, last I looked," she said. "That's not exactly a huge margin, there."

"Yeah, but _I'm_ 30 points up on H, so that puts you in last place, doesn't it?" Tim smirked.

"Humph," she said. "Go get the game, smartass."

Tim laughed as he left the room. She smiled after him. "God, that's such a good sound," she sighed.

"It is, isn't it?" Horatio agreed.

She closed her eyes and nodded. Yes, yes it was.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

* * *

Flashbulbs and wine,  
And hold that smile,  
Everyone's here, flown for miles,  
Looks like you're still the test and we're looking our best

"Christmas Pics", Barenaked Ladies

* * *

The phone rang and he jerked awake from his nap on the couch to answer it. "Yeah?" he said, sleepily.

"Now, is that any way to answer a phone?" his mom said.

"Sorry, Mom. I wasn't really awake," he explained as he sat up. "You're here?"

"You're forgiven, and yes, we're here. We've just picked up the rental car and we're about to leave the airport. So, we'll be at your house in, about twenty minutes?" she asked.

"Mmm, more like thirty, but yeah," he said. "Good. Are you guys hungry?"

"You have a seventeen year old brother," she pointed out.

"Good point. Ok, I'll get dinner organized, then," he replied.

"That would probably be wise," she agreed.

"You guys up to going out, or would you rather eat in?" he asked.

"Oh, we're fine. Whatever you wanted to do would be fine with us, honey," she said.

"Ok," he said, yawning. "I'll see you in a bit."

"See you soon, Tim," his mom said as she hung up.

He nodded to himself as he thought about dinner. "Cal?" he called. She didn't answer. He frowned and pulled himself up to go look for her.

He found her outside on the back porch talking on her cell phone. "Yes, I know….I know. I didn't…all right," she sighed as he raised his eyebrows at her. "Dad", she mouthed at him. He nodded and retreated to sit on the stoop. "I know, Daddy, but really, it has nothing to do with you. I'm just really tired and no good company for y'all. You'll have a better time this way, ok? No, we're going to have a pretty quiet time, I think. Yes, I'll call. Of course. Ok, my love to Kenny and Marybeth. And Mama too. I'll talk to you later, ok? Yes, I love you too," she sighed. "Ok, bye." She clicked off her phone and sighed. "Lord."

"They're upset," he said, not really asking.

"A bit, yes. But I couldn't really give a damn," she said. "I am not up to that."

"Understandable," he nodded. She looked tired and upset and he had a flash of inspiration. "Has H gotten himself in trouble down in Little Havana lately?" he asked.

She blinked at the seeming non-sequitur, but shook her head. "No, nothing's really gone on down there in at least a month or two. Why?"

"Do you think you might be up for Pepita's?" he asked, knowing it was one of Calleigh and Eric's favorite restaurants. "If you aren't, I understand, but I'm trying to think where to go for dinner tonight when my folks get here, and that's the sort of place they'd love. But if you're not feeling up to it, we can take them somewhere else."

"God, I haven't been to Pepita's since…oh, May, I think. Eric's birthday," she sighed. "We just never got back there this past summer."

"I know," he said, nodding. "And I know how much you love it."

"I do," she said, brightening a bit. "You know, that sounds excellent. You want Horatio to come too?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's probably a good idea to have two Spanish speakers with us, I'd think. I don't think my parents know any Spanish, and I think Matt takes German at school, so I doubt he knows much, either," he said.

"Ok, I'll call him and see if he's up for it. Your parents are on their way?" she asked.

"Yeah, they're just leaving the airport now," he nodded.

"Good, then you've got time to take a shower and get dressed," she said, looking him up and down. When he blinked at her, she sighed, "You're still in your pajamas, Tim. Didn't you notice?"

He looked down and saw that she was right. "Oh. You know, I was going to get dressed and then I got distracted and went to look something up and it must have just slipped my mind."

She shook her head in amusement. "Well, good thing I said something, then, otherwise you might never have figured it out."

"Humph," he said, levering himself up to go back into the house.

Some hours later, after a flurry of excitement and an excellent dinner, Tim found himself standing on the beach near his house with Matt and Calleigh while his parents walked ahead.

"This is way cool," Matt said. "I mean, it's December, and we're on a beach!"

Tim smiled. He wouldn't admit it aloud, but he tended to feel the same sort of amazement every winter, even after nearly 10 years. "Welcome to Miami."

"Dude, you know how much snow we've got already?" Matt crowed.

"I can imagine," Tim said.

"More than we saw in North Carolina?" Calleigh asked.

"I'm sure," Tim replied. "What, 12-15 inches already?" he asked Matt.

"Near about, yeah," Matt said. "Is the water warm enough to swim in?"

Tim shrugged. "Maybe not for Miamians, but you'd probably be fine. You planning on getting some training in while you're here?"

"Yeah, I had to promise I'd run every day while I'm here, but if I can swim, it would be even better. I haven't done much open water, though," Matt admitted.

"You're a swimmer?" Calleigh asked.

"Yup," Matt said. "I swim the 100 fly and the 200 IM. And a freestyle relay, if I'm needed."

"Wow," Calleigh said. "That's cool. But I bet it's cold in the winter."

Matt laughed. "It is, a bit. You get used to it, though."

"This beach isn't the best for swimming, since there's no lifeguard, but I can take you somewhere that would be better," Tim said. "Or, Alexx has a Y membership for her family and she said she could get a pass for a week if you wanted to use the pool."

"Really? That would actually be great. Coach wasn't all that thrilled with me missing most of the two-a-days, even if I am going to be back in time for the meet," Matt explained. "He understood why I needed to go, but I can't say he was happy about the timing, since they'll be scouts at the meet."

"He thinks you've got a scholarship shot?" Tim asked, raising his eyebrows.

"It's possible," Matt shrugged. "Not at one of the big name schools, but there's some smaller schools that are sending people out too. He thinks I can make States this year, though, and that would probably nail me a partial if I do well these next two meets."

"You didn't tell me that," Tim said. "That's awesome."

"Well, every bit helps, y'know?" Matt shrugged.

"Oh, I know," Tim agreed, nodding. "I'll call Alexx when we get back."

"Sweet. And hey, if not, I can run still," Matt said. "You still run?"

Tim shook his head. "Not like I used to, no. My knee starts to protest after about two miles, and really, I only have to be able to do a sub-12 mile to pass the physical tests, so I only really train when those are coming up."

"You're way under 12, though, I'd think," Matt said.

Tim nodded. "I made it in 9 last year, but I wasn't really pushing it. I could probably have done it closer to 8."

"That's respectable, after a knee surgery," Matt said.

"After 15 years and _four_ knee surgeries, yeah, it's not bad," Tim said, dryly.

"Four?" Matt asked, frowning.

"The original, and three revisions," Tim nodded. "Word of advice: don't fuck your knee up yet. If I'm anything to go by, you're not gonna stop growing until you're about 23. I grew about four inches between 18 and 23."

"Damn," Matt said. "I forgot about the revisions."

"Eh, you were small," Tim shrugged.

"Wait, you were a runner?" Calleigh asked.

"Cross-Country," he said, nodding.

"I completely cannot see you as a jock," she said, looking at him and shaking her head.

Matt laughed, and Tim sighed. "I wasn't. It's kind of a family rule, everyone does two extracurriculars in high school."

"Yup. Preferably a sport and an academic thing, although if you don't make a sport, you can do two academic things. But you've got to try out for something. Oh, and you work the restaurant, too," Matt said. "I swim and volunteer with the Tutoring Club. And do Youth Group at church and work 10 hours a week at the restaurant."

"Good Lord," Calleigh said, shaking her head. "When do you get all your homework done?"

Matt shrugged. "Well, right now, I don't do much with the Youth Group, since it's swim season. I'll pick that back up in March. And I'm only doing tutoring during study hall and lunch two days a week, since I've got practice after school. Meets are on Fridays, so I work Saturdays and Sundays. You get good at balancing it all out. That's why we do it, you see. Papa was a big fan of having well rounded and capable kids."

"Your grandpa?" she asked. Tim and Matt nodded. "So you did Cross-Country?" she asked Tim.

"Well, I was only 13 when I started high school," he explained. "And I was small, at that. Football wasn't exactly in the cards."

She laughed. "Lord, Tim, you'd never make a football player. You're much too scrawny."

"Yes, well, it was worse," he sighed.

"I can only imagine," she said, smiling. "So what was your second activity?"

"Science Club," he shrugged.

"Why am I not surprised?" she smiled.

"Hey, he won the state science fair four years running," Matt said, proudly.

"Did you really?" Calleigh asked.

He sighed. "Yeah. Me and Jason."

"Oh," she said, quieter.

"No, it's good, really," he said. "Remind me, I'll show you the photo album sometime," he offered, shyly. He'd never offered to show anyone before, but he knew Calleigh would get a kick out of it.

"Oh, I'll remind you," she said.

"They did cool stuff," Matt said. "I remember some of it. And they still talk about it, the teachers do."

Before Tim could frame a reply to that, his Dad called from up ahead, "Hey, Matt, come here and look at this."

"Ok," Matt called, breaking away to jog over to his parents.

Calleigh watched him with a bemused smile on her face. "He's nothing like you," she remarked to Tim.

"No, thank God," he said, shaking his head.

She chuckled. "You're getting tired, aren't you?"

"Mmm, yeah," he said.

"You want to head home?" she asked.

"Nah, they're enjoying it. If you don't mind playing host for a minute or two, I'll just go sit for awhile, you guys can collect me on the way back up," he said, nodding towards a nearby rock.

"No, I don't mind," she said. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just want to sit awhile," he replied.

"All right, then. Yell if you need anything, or if you get ready to go home, ok?" she said. "I won't let them get too much further."

"Thanks, Cal," he said, glad that she understood why he wanted her to stick with his folks. It wasn't that he didn't think they could take care of themselves, but he didn't want them to get too far away, or feel abandoned, either.

"No problem," she said, turning to walk towards his family as he picked his way over to the rock. It was the rock he and Calleigh usually sat on when they walked down here, and he sat down in his familiar spot. He noticed his mom glance back at him before saying something to Calleigh and making her way towards him.

"Hey, kiddo," she said, smiling at him. "You all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, smiling back. "Just getting a little tired. As sad as it seems, it's getting towards my bedtime."

"Not sad at all. It's been a long day," she said, sitting down next to him on the rock. "Mind if I keep you company?"

"Of course not," he said, shifting to give her some more space to sit.

"It must be so nice to live close enough to walk to the beach," she said with a sigh.

"It is. It's part of why I bought the house," he admitted.

"I can understand that, now," she replied. "The house is beautiful, I don't think I told you in September."

"Thank you," he said.

"Thank you for letting us stay with you," his mom said. "I know you must have gone to some trouble to get ready."

"Oh, it wasn't trouble. It's just easier for you guys to stay here instead of at a hotel and having to go back and forth and all," he said. "Did you see the towels on the bed?"

"I did, yes, thank you, sweetie," she said.

"Good," he said. "There's more in the bottom of the cupboard just as you go into the bathroom if you need more. And if you need extra soap or a toothbrush, there's a blue bin on the second shelf in the top cupboard that has extra stuff in it."

"Mmm, good, because I will bet you 5 dollars that Matt forgot a toothbrush. He was so excited and so busy when we were getting ready to go," she said.

"We have lots of toothbrushes," he said. "Cal came across a buy three, get two free sale last month and bought about ten of them."

"Well, that's handy," his mom laughed.

"Yeah. Oh, and I found somewhere for you guys to go to Mass for Christmas, too. I put the printout with the directions on the dresser in the bedroom. I called and made sure the Masses were in English, too. They're not, always, around here," he explained.

"Oh, that's sweet of you, honey." she said, squeezing his arm. "I was going to look in the phone book tomorrow or something."

"I figured you'd want to know. I'm…not going to come, though, ok?" he said, hesitantly. Church was another issue that had been a previous battleground, and he didn't want to spark it off, even though he was almost sure they had accepted that fact.

"That's fine, sweetie. Really. Your dad promised he wouldn't say anything if you didn't want to go to Mass. It's fine," she nodded.

"Is he upset about it?" he asked.

"Mmm, not really. I think he might have said something out of habit, but not out of any real disappointment," she replied.

"And you?" he asked, hesitantly.

"Oh, honey. No, I'm fine. You've got to go with a whole heart, you know? If I've learned anything, it's that you can't go for someone else, you've got to go for you," she smiled wryly. "It just doesn't work, otherwise."

"Yeah," he said. His mom would know.

"So, Calleigh has moved in, then?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Not officially, yet, no. But yeah, she lives here now. Her lease isn't up until March, but she's not renewing it," he replied.

"That's good," his mom nodded. "Plenty of time to move, then."

"Yeah, she said that after New Year's, she'd go over and start figuring out what she really wants to move over and all. Like, we don't really need two televisions, so she'll probably sell hers, since mine is newer, but some of her furniture is nicer than mine, so we might use some of it and sell mine," he explained.

"Makes sense," she said. "You like her, don't you?" she asked after a moment.

He blinked. "Well, yeah. I mean, if I had to name someone, she'd probably be my best friend," he said, slowly, trying to not feel like it was a betrayal.

"No, silly," his mom said, affectionately. "You _like_ her, like her."

The all too familiar bubble of panic started to form behind his stomach as he struggled to find a response to that. It wasn't an idea he'd ever allowed himself to entertain, even before this point. It was off limits, his feelings about Calleigh. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, trying to keep his breath from catching.

"Of course you do," his mom said, smiling. "She likes you too, you know."

The bubble rose and his hands clenched as he tried to take a deep breath. He closed his eyes and started counting doubles, a new trick Andy had shown him last week. _2…4…8…16…32…64…_ By _128_, he'd pulled himself back from the panic and it started to dissipate. He looked up to find his mother staring at him with concern. "Timmy?" she asked.

"I'm…I'm fine," he said, trying to smile at her. "Really, that wasn't…it's fine."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" she started.

"No, no, it's fine, really. This happens when I get tired, you know? I've been keyed up all day, too, so you know, it was going to happen at some point," he said, shaking his head.

"This happens a lot?" she asked.

"Less than it did before. And it wasn't anything, really. I mean, anything really bad. I got it back, so it's fine. It's when I don't, that it's a problem," he tried to explain. "That's kind of why they won't let me back to work yet, you see. Because I can't always keep it together," he admitted. His mother still looked worried. "Oh, Mom, really, I'm ok. Honest. It's getting better. I'm working on it. It's just that I…get tired, that's all."

"Ok, honey," she said. "I believe you." They said quietly for a moment more while he caught his breath again. "Do you want to get home?" she asked, still slightly concerned.

He smiled sheepishly. "Maybe that would be good, yeah. I'm sorry, I know it's hardly 9 yet, but it really is nearly bedtime. I go to bed _early_, anymore."

"Don't be sorry, you don't have anything to apologize for," she said, slipping her arm around his shoulders and squeezing him. "Nothing at all." She stood up. "Wait here, I'll go round everyone up."

"Thanks," he said, watching her walk back down to the water's edge to bring everyone back. He really was overtired. It would be good to sleep, knowing everyone was safely here and having a good time so far.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

* * *

And as I've often asked before  
Does anybody know  
How scary  
This is for you and is for me?  
Does anybody know?

"Natasha", Rufus Wainwright

* * *

Calleigh watched Tim closely on the ten minute walk back to the house. He was definitely fading fast. _Too much excitement_, she thought. Melissa seemed a bit concerned, too, but Calleigh couldn't tell if it was because Tim seemed so tired or if something had happened to raise her concern. But Tim seemed mostly fine to her, chatting amiably, if tiredly, with his dad, so she didn't worry.

They entered the house and kept the cats from escaping, and Tim looked around and said. "Right, then, there's the air mattress and…"

"I got it, Tim," Calleigh said quietly. "Why don't you go on and go to bed, huh?"

"I gotta call Alexx," he protested.

"Ok, call Alexx, then go to bed. I can make sure everyone gets what they need," Calleigh said, watching his family disperse into the living room and kitchen.

"Ok," he acquiesced. "I'm tired."

"I know," she said, with a smile. "Go sleep, I'm sure the rest of us won't be too far behind."

"All right," he said. He leaned over to where his mom was sitting. "Night, Mom."

"Goodnight, sweetie. Sleep tight."

"I will. Night, Dad," he said, straightening up.

"Goodnight, Little Man. See you in the morning," his dad replied.

"Yup," he said, as he wandered off towards the bedroom.

"Mom, can I call Raina?" Matt asked, poking his head into the living room.

"Sure, sweetie," Melissa said, with a glance at Calleigh.

"You get pretty good reception out on the porch," Calleigh said, catching the meaning behind the glance. Obviously Melissa wanted to say something she didn't necessarily want Matt to hear.

"Great, thanks," Matt said, disappearing back into the kitchen. They heard the sliding door open and close.

"I didn't imagine he'd be able to go all day without calling her," Danny said, amusedly. "Raina's his girlfriend," he explained to Calleigh.

"Aw," Calleigh said, with a smile. "Cute."

"They are," Melissa sighed. "Anyway, I'm glad he's calling her, because I want to ask you something."

"I guessed," Calleigh said, nodding as she sat down in the armchair.

"When we were out on the beach," Melissa started, hesitantly. "Tim and I were talking and then all of a sudden it was like he sort of…shut down a moment. Now, I'm used to Tim kind of spacing out in the middle of a conversation, but not quite like that…"

"Ah," Calleigh said, as she suddenly understood why Tim had suddenly seemed like he'd hit the wall. "That was probably a not quite panic attack," she said calmly.

"He said they happen when he gets tired," Melissa said, nodding.

"Yes. Or overwhelmed. Or upset. Or just at random," Calleigh sighed. "They're getting a lot better. If he can pull himself together within a minute or two, we're not worrying about them. If he can't, then we have to do something. It's part of the anxiety issues that the doctor thinks is causing a lot of the problems right now. But really, he's doing considerably better. There was a long time where he was having several full blown panic attacks a day, and now he's down to just these little moments most of the time," she reassured them.

"He said they were getting better, yes," Melissa said. "It's just that he's not always the best judge of that sort of thing."

Calleigh laughed. "No, he's really not, is he?" She smiled. "He's right this time, though. They are getting better. He's getting better. Believe me, the fact that he had enough energy to go out to dinner _and_ then go down to the beach for awhile is a vast, vast improvement. It's not so long ago that he was sleeping half the day and 9 or 10 hours at night. He's almost got enough energy to be bored, even."

"I hope he's come up with something to do," Danny said. "Tim and boredom do not mix."

"Oh, we've noticed," Calleigh said. "We're working on it."

"How long until he can go back to work?" Danny asked.

Calleigh sighed. "It's not entirely clear. There's a schedule that puts him back part time in about a month, but I think it's overly optimistic. I'm sure you noticed how much weight he's lost?" she asked.

"God, yes, he's emaciated. I've never seen him so skinny," Melissa said, shuddering slightly. "I didn't like to say anything, since he can be so self-conscious sometimes, but he wasn't even this bad when he came back from having run away, and I thought he was much too thin then."

Danny nodded in agreement. "Can I ask…do you know how much he lost?"

"We're not entirely sure," Calleigh admitted. "He weighed 153 at his physical in July, so they used that as the official starting point, since he doesn't have any idea what he weighed in September. At the lowest point, he was 128.5."

"My god," Melissa breathed. "That's less than _I _weigh. That's 25 pounds, almost!"

"I know," Calleigh nodded. "That was the point where the doctor said if he lost any more they'd admit him to the hospital for a feeding tube. Thankfully, we didn't have to go that far. To be fair, Alexx and I don't think he started at 153. We think he'd lost about 5 pounds somewhere between July and September. I remember telling him he was starting to get too thin the week before everything happened, and with as skinny as he is, we usually notice when he gets to be about 5 pounds off of normal. But still, 20 pounds is a lot."

"Has he gained any back?" Danny asked.

"Three pounds," Calleigh sighed. "He didn't gain anything until they got the braces on him, but it's starting to creep back up now. But it's been difficult. His appetite is nearly non-existent, although he's gotten a lot better about eating whether he's hungry or not. His stomach is still a mess; a good half of the medication he's on yet is to deal with that. He came pretty close to an ulcer, the doctor said, but we caught it in time."

"Tim's been on the edge of an ulcer half his life," Melissa sighed. "I can't say I'm surprised."

"Yeah, he said it wasn't a new thing. But it's getting treated now, so hopefully it won't be quite so much of an issue in the future. If you had intentions of feeding him up while you're here- and by all means, please do so- you might want to stay away from anything really greasy or spicy. Or meat, either. He can eat meat again, but there was a long time where he couldn't chew it well, so he wasn't eating it, and now it's not going over really well," Calleigh said.

"No problem. But I hope the doctors understand that this is an uphill battle. He's always been skinny- we spent half of his adolescence trying to keep him from slipping under the 5th percentile, weight wise," Danny said.

"They're getting the picture," Calleigh nodded. "But at any rate, to answer your first question as to when he can go back to work, the doctor won't approve it until he's had a net gain of 10 pounds. I'm guessing that probably won't be until nearly March, if not later."

"Lord," Danny sighed. "What does he think about all this?"

Calleigh shrugged. "It's hard to say. On one hand, I think he's half relieved. On the other hand, I think he's a bit frustrated."

"Poor guy," Melissa said.

"Yeah," Calleigh agreed. "He'll make it, though."

Tim's parents seemed to muse on what she'd told them. She let them think in peace. After awhile, she heard the sliding door open again, and Matt wandered into the living room.

"Um, Ms. Duquesne?" he asked, hesitantly.

She smiled. "You can call me Calleigh, Matt. It's ok," she said, slightly amused at the propriety.

"Um, yes, ma'am. Uh, Calleigh," he said, a bit flustered, especially when he realized his parents were also somewhat amused. "I didn't want to just go rummaging through the cupboards or the fridge, but is there…well, could I maybe get something to eat?" he asked, finally.

Danny laughed. "Maybe we ought to switch your appetite for your brother's for awhile."

"That could work," Calleigh said, laughing as well. "Come on, Matt, let's see what we've got," she said, getting up and leading him into the kitchen. She opened one of the cupboards and said, "How's cereal sound?"

"That would be great, thanks," he said, reaching up to pick one of the boxes as her gesture.

She handed him a bowl and got the milk for him. "Ok, that's taken care of then. Now, I know you're probably going to stay up far later than either your parents or me, so if you get hungry again later, you can eat whatever you like. The bread is in the fridge and there's peanut butter in the cabinet with the cereal. There's also some fruit in the fridge. Ok?"

"Yes, thank you," Matt said, ducking to hide a blush.

She laughed. "No problem. Now, speaking of staying up late, just as a warning, everything is on one floor in this house, and the walls aren't incredibly thick, either. You can feel free to watch TV or something, but remember that the television can be heard in the room where your parents are sleeping if the volume is louder than 15, ok?"

"Got it," he nodded.

"All right, then. Tim's got it set up so the DVD player is the default choice, since we watch more DVDs than regular TV. If you want to watch TV, you have to hit the TV button on the remote. Also, the Playstation is in the cabinet under the television. To get it to work, you hit the Input 2 button on the skinny box to the right of the TV. Just don't overwrite Tim's Final Fantasy game, or he might have to kill you, ok?" she said, wryly.

Matt laughed. "I won't."

"Good deal, then. I'll just go get the air mattress down for you, and you'll be all set," she said, smiling.

"Thanks," Matt said, as he ate his cereal.

Calleigh went out to the breezeway to get the air mattress and air compressor off the shelf. She also snagged a pillow and a blanket and carried the whole mess back to the living room and set it next to the couch. "There, that's Matt taken care of," she said to Melissa and Danny. "I presume he can figure out an air mattress."

Melissa chuckled. "Oh yes."

"Good," she said. "Is there anything I can get for you guys? I know Tim left some towels and things out."

"He did, and he told me where to find things in the bathroom," Melissa assured her. "I think we're probably going to head on to bed. It's been a long day."

"No problem," Calleigh said. "I told Matt how to work the TV, and where to find more food, so I think he's probably set for the night."

"Food and television will definitely keep him entertained," Danny agreed, as he stood up and stretched. "Thank you for a lovely evening, Calleigh. And thank you for answering our questions."

"Oh, not at all. I'm glad I could," she said.

"I feel a lot better knowing there's people here who love him," Melissa said, seriously. "I still worry, but I don't worry nearly as much as I would, otherwise."

Calleigh blushed a bit. "Well, we worry, too."

"I know, dear. And I'm thankful for that, too," she said. "Good night."

"Good night," Calleigh said, as she nodded to Danny and watched them poke their head into the kitchen to say goodnight to Matt.

She sighed as she walked down the hall to Tim's bedroom and eased the door open. He was curled up and looked asleep, but he raised his head to look at her as she sat down on the bed after changing into her pajamas. "Hey," she said, softly. "Did we keep you up?"

"No," he said, frowning.

"Ok," she said.

"My parents wanted to talk to you?" he asked.

"Yeah, they did. I told them what they wanted to know, and they feel better about things, I think," she said.

"Good," he said, still frowning a bit. He was looking at her a little funny.

"You all right?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, in a tone that said that he wasn't, but he wanted to be.

"Is this ok? Would you rather I slept on the couch?" she asked.

"No," he said, firmly. "This is fine," he said, in that same _I want this to be fine_ tone.

"All right, then," she said, stretching out next to him. He relaxed slightly and moved over to give her more room. She didn't say anything, but listened as his breathing slowed and deepened as he fell back asleep. She let herself be lulled to sleep as well.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

* * *

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas;  
Soon the bells will start,  
And the thing that will make them ring is the carol that you sing  
Right within your heart.

"It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas", Meredith Wilson

* * *

He woke up as the light crept across his bedroom. Calleigh was sleeping deeply next to him, curled up around a cat. He strained to hear if anyone was up and moving about, but just heard the faint sounds of traffic from the main road and his next door neighbor's wind chimes blowing in the breeze. Smiling to himself, he carefully climbed out of bed and pulled the blanket up over Calleigh's bare shoulders.

The door to the guest bedroom was still closed and the bathroom was unoccupied. Matt was a lump of blankets on the air mattress in the living room. Toast had apparently decided that the middle of Matt's back made a lovely place to curl up for a nap and he grinned at the sight. Stretching, he made his way into the kitchen and went about his routine of changing the water in the cat dish and replenishing the food. He slid the door to the back porch open and went back to the kitchen to wash his hands and put on the coffee before pouring himself a glass of juice.

As he drank the juice and watched the coffee pot, he considered what was on hand for breakfast. He and Calleigh hadn't done a major shopping trip, since he knew that Matt and his Dad planned on going up to the store in Ft. Lauderdale. Plus, he hadn't known what, if anything, they planned on cooking. But there were enough staples around that he could probably put something together for breakfast. He pulled ingredients down from the cupboards and set about it.

Cooking wasn't his passion in the same way that it was his father's or his brother's, but he still liked to cook. He was always amazed as how comforting it was to make something from nothing, using the skills and the recipes he had stored in his head. When he was small, he'd spent hours standing on a chair in the kitchen of the restaurant, watching his grandfather and his father cook. Their hands always moved so confidently, their eyes skating over the rest of the kitchen, keeping an eye on the timer, the servers, or the next step without ever pausing or needing to read a recipe. He'd been awe-struck when he'd looked down at his hands one day when he was about twenty-one and seen them moving in the same confident manner that his grandfather's and father's hands moved. They were doing so now, retracing movements he'd memorized as a child without recourse to any recipe or even conscious thought.

A noise behind him startled him as he straightened from putting the pan in the oven. "Morning, Little Man," his dad yawned. "Cinnamon rolls?"

"No, coffee cake. I didn't figure everyone would want to wait for the dough to rise," he said.

"Probably true. And we'll be making them for Christmas morning anyway," his dad said.

Tim smiled and pulled down a coffee mug and filled it for his father. "Here," he said.

"Aren't you a good boy," his dad said, yawning again. "Mm, it's good."

"I have no idea what kind it is," he said, apologetically. "Calleigh gets it."

"She's got good taste," his dad said, sitting down at the table.

"I know," he said, joining his dad with the remainder of his juice. "Did you sleep well?"

"Sure did," his dad said. "What do you have planned for today?"

"Well, I figured you and Matt would want to go grocery shopping. I didn't do much because I didn't know what you guys had in mind," he said.

"Ah, yes, the grocery store stand-off," his dad said. "You're more than welcome to come along, although I think your mom was going to drag you off to cart her around to some of the sights. She thinks we're being a tad ridiculous."

Tim laughed. "Yeah, I did mention to Matt that we have grocery stores here. Right down the street, as a matter of fact. No, you guys go on ahead if you think you'll be ok on your own. I'll take Mom around to see stuff."

"That's fine. Just don't take her on one of those glass boat things, because Matt and I want to do that too," his dad said with a smile.

"No glass boat tour. Got it," he said, nodding. "I'll see if those are running the day after Christmas, how's that?"

"Perfect," his dad said. "We don't have to have Matt to the airport until 7pm, so we should have ample time."

"How long are you and Mom here for, then?" he asked.

"We'll head back on the 28th. I imagine Janie and Liz will have had their fill of the restaurant by then," his dad replied. "Not that they don't have plenty of help. Shelly's there, after all, and she could probably run the place with her eyes shut and both hands tied behind her back. I don't know why I bother going in at all, some days."

"Because the kitchen would fall apart without you," Tim said.

"Probably true. Oh well, it's not like we're ever busy right around Christmas, anyway. All the college kids are gone home and everyone else is eating at home," he sighed. "They can't possibly get into too much trouble."

"And it's not like they didn't grow up in the place, same as you, either," Tim pointed out.

"This is also true," his father agreed.

"What's also true?" Matt asked as he ambled into the kitchen. "Mornin'"

"That your Aunt Janie and your Aunt Liz grew up in the restaurant too," his dad replied.

"Oh, that. Don't worry, Dad, it'll be fine," Matt yawned. "Is that coffee? Can I have some? What's in the oven?"

"Yes, yes, and coffee cake," Tim said, getting up to retrieve Matt a cup.

"No, sit, I can get it," Matt said.

"It's fine, I had to get up and get my shake anyway," Tim said, handing his brother a coffee cup.

"Shake?" Matt asked. "You want some?" he asked, indicating the coffee pot.

"No thanks," he said. "Off limits."

"Ah," Matt said. "What in the hell is that?" he asked, watching Tim pour a violently lurid pink concoction into a glass.

"It's the stupid supplement shake," Tim sighed. "The strawberry flavor is the least objectionable."

"That is _not_ a color found in nature," Matt said, looking nauseated, yet fascinated. "You have to _drink_ that?"

Tim laughed. "Little brother, I lived on these for almost a month."

Matt shuddered. "That's just not right."

Tim shrugged. "It's not so bad now. I only have to drink three of them a day, now that I can eat again. It was four."

"Do you have to drink them because of their calorie content, or because of a specific nutrient content, or the protein or what?" Matt asked as he sat down next to their dad with his coffee.

"Calorie content, now. Although the protein certainly doesn't hurt," Tim said, taking as large of a gulp as he could. When he said least objectionable, he'd meant it. The thing still tasted lousy.

"Well, heck, if it's just calories, I can probably come up with something better for you. I guarantee it'll taste better than that looks," Matt said. "I've got a bunch of smoothie recipes for training."

"I don't know why on earth I didn't think of that months ago," their dad said.

"I probably didn't mention the shakes," Tim said with a shrug. "It didn't occur to me that there might be something else. And besides, I couldn't drink anything with a straw for the first six weeks anyway."

"How many calories are in one of those things, anyway?" Matt asked. "'Cause if you're not on a low-fat diet, we can make it with real yogurt and stuff."

Tim laughed. "Yeah, low fat isn't a word my doctor wants me using right now."

"Didn't think so," Matt said. "You're really skinny."

"I don't know exactly how many calories are in there," Tim said, taking the last swallow of the shake. "But the box is over there on the counter, behind the plant."

"I'll take a look later, before we go to the store," Matt promised. "Are we doing that today?"

"Yup," his dad said. "Earlier rather than later."

"Sounds good," Matt said. "So, when's the coffee cake done?"

Tim glanced over at the clock. "Soon."

"Speaking of grocery shopping, let's talk about Christmas a moment," his dad said. "Would there be any objections to a pork roast?"

Tim shook his head. "Nah, Calleigh eats pork."

"Well, I didn't think she was a vegetarian after she ordered carne asada last night. I was thinking about you," his dad pointed out.

"Oh! No, that'd be fine," Tim said, nodding.

"All right, then. I just wanted to make sure before I went and bought one," his dad said. "So, I'm thinking pork roast, applesauce, mashed potatoes, some form of vegetable, some form of bread."

"Can we make the cranberry apple chutney?" Matt asked.

"Certainly. I see no reason why we couldn't have two sauces for the meat. You're in charge, Matt. I suggest a call to your Aunt Sophie if you aren't sure of the ingredients list, given that she is the originator of that recipe," his dad replied.

"Ok," Matt said, nodding.

"Just don't make the vegetable asparagus, and it sounds good," Tim said.

"Right, then," his dad said. "Is it just the five of us?"

"Yeah," Tim nodded. "Alexx wants us to come over for Christmas Eve lunch, though."

"Fine with us," his dad replied. "Should we bring something?"

Tim shrugged as he got up to get the coffee cake out of the oven. "I don't, always. A bottle of wine is probably fine, but if you guys want to come up with something that goes with ham and scalloped potatoes, you go on ahead. I know Cal's going to make cornbread."

"Yum." Matt said. "Is it done?" he asked, leaning back and looking at the coffee cake pan.

"It needs to cool, Matthew," Tim said, dryly. "Do you want some cereal or something?"

"No, I can wait," Matt sighed.

Tim rolled his eyes as he brought the butter dish, a serving knife, and a stack of small plates back to the table. "Anyway, Cal's cornbread isn't like you're thinking. It's Southern cornbread, it's different. It's not sweet, and the texture's different. It's still good, though."

"Hmm," Matt said. "Interesting."

"I used to know someone who made cornbread like that," his dad mused. "You wouldn't remember, Tim, you were a baby. But it was good."

"Good morning," Calleigh said, wandering into the kitchen. "Did I hear something about me and cornbread?"

"You're making some to take to Alexx's, right?" Tim asked.

"Ah, yes," she said. "That's right. What smells so good?" she asked.

"Coffee Cake," Tim said.

"We're waiting for it to cool," Matt sighed.

"I see," Calleigh said, getting herself a cup of coffee. "It looks delicious."

"Can you bring it over with you? It ought to be cool enough for Matt, anyway," Tim said.

"Sure," she said, setting down her coffee on the table before going back for the pan.

"Yum," Matt said, dishing himself a piece. Tim rolled his eyes again and dished up pieces for everyone else.

"He's right, this is fabulous," Calleigh said, taking another bite of her piece. "How come you don't make breakfast all the time?" she sighed.

"I made you French toast the other day," he pointed out.

"That's right, you did," she said, nodding. "I apologize."

"Apology accepted," he said, taking a bite of his own piece. "What were you planning to do today?"

She shrugged. "I haven't really thought about it. I do have some little bit of paperwork that has to get done, but that shouldn't take too long."

"Well, Dad and Matt are going up to Ft. Lauderdale and I'm going to take Mom out to see stuff," he said.

"That sounds good. How about you guys go on and do your stuff, and I'll get the paperwork done and catch you up later?" she said.

"All right," Tim nodded.

"Matthew," his father warned, "You had better go knock on the door and find out if your mother is going to want some of the coffee cake _before_ you take a second piece."

"Oh, right," Matt said, dropping the serving knife. "Okay." He got up and ambled off towards the guest bedroom.

His father sighed. "I swear to God, it's a good thing we own a restaurant or he'd have eaten us out already. How I wound up with one kid who tried to live on air and one who eats anything that's not nailed down, I'll never know."

"I wasn't _that_ bad," Tim protested mildly.

"Don't be so sure about that," his dad replied, raising his eyebrows. "I seem to recall several phone calls from a school nurse because you'd about passed out from forgetting to eat."

"I was busy," he muttered defensively.

"Yes, I know," his father sighed. "You don't do that anymore, do you?"

"Not at the moment, no," Tim admitted.

"Good. Keep that mindset," his father said.

"Good morning," his mom said, coming into the room. "I'm informed that there's coffee cake and if I want to save a piece from the ravages of my son's appetite, I should probably get up and have some now."

"I didn't say that!" Matt protested.

"Ah, but that's what you meant, isn't it?" she said, smiling at him.

"Well, kind of, I guess," Matt admitted as he flopped back into his chair.

His mother chuckled as she dished herself up a piece. "Be useful and get me a cup of coffee, please, Matthew."

"Yes'm," Matt replied, getting up to do so.

"So, I imagine there are already plans?" his mom asked, looking at the rest of them.

"Matt and I are going grocery shopping," his dad said. "Tim said he'd take you to see some of the things you wanted to see."

"Oh, lovely. Are you going to come with us, Calleigh, or did the boys talk you into the road trip?" his mom asked.

"I actually have a bit of paperwork to take care of, but then I'll catch up with y'all," Calleigh agreed.

"Good. I doubt Tim has any idea about shopping outside of books," she said.

"You want to go shopping?" Tim asked incredulously. "It's December 23rd!"

"Oh, we'll park you somewhere safe first, sweetie," his mom replied. "I have no intention of dragging you around shopping two days before Christmas, Tim. Which would be why I asked if Calleigh was coming with."

Calleigh laughed. "Don't worry, I'll go."

"You're both insane. Actually, you're all insane," Tim said, shaking his head. He could not imagine what would induce someone to step into a place of retail commerce two days before Christmas. Museums and such would be bad enough.

"Yes, well, this shouldn't be news, dear," his mom replied. "Ok, Matt, have at the cake."

"Thanks," Matt said, scooping up the last piece. "Oh…unless anyone else wanted it," he asked, belatedly.

"No, Matt, it's all yours," Tim smiled, after glancing around the table.

"Great," Matt replied.

"I'm going to go get dressed," his dad said. "Thank you for breakfast."

"No problem," Tim said.

"Yeah, I'm going to get started on stuff," Calleigh said. "The sooner I start the sooner I finish.

"Sounds good," Tim said, picking up the now empty pan and several dishes and taking them to the kitchen. He started cleaning things up as he listened to his mom and Matt discussing Christmas dinner. It was nice to have a houseful of people going about their business in the morning. He was starting to actually get excited about Christmas, something that hadn't happened in a long, long time.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

* * *

Just raise your head up and stand up, no fear in your eyes.  
Tell me love and hope never die.  
So raise your head up and stand up, no reason to cry.   
'Cause your heart and soul will survive.

"Love and Hope", Ozomatli

* * *

Calleigh stepped back and took a good look at her handiwork. When she'd realized the other day that there were no Christmas decorations at Tim's house whatsoever, she'd ducked out and retrieved her little Christmas tree and a box of ornaments from her apartment without telling anyone. The lack of decorations didn't seem to be bothering any of the Speedles, but she couldn't imagine having Christmas morning without even a token tree.

Tim's family had left for Midnight Mass around 10:30, since no one was sure how well attended the service would be and they wanted to be sure of getting a seat. Tim had gone to bed shortly thereafter, and Calleigh had slipped out to her car and brought in the tree. She'd spent the last hour putting it together and decorating it. Now she flipped the switch and turned out the lamp. The colored lights twinkled gently in the darkened living room and the ornaments shone. "Perfect," she said to herself, with a contented sigh. She turned the lights back on in order to clean up the boxes. An idea struck her, and she went into the breezeway where she knew Tim had stashed his Christmas presents. She got the box down from the shelf, and brought it into the living room to place the presents under the tree. She got her own box of presents from the coat closet and added them to the pile. "_Now_ it feels like Christmas," she said, turning off the lamp again. She thought the lights would be a nice greeting for Tim's family when they returned from church, so she left them on. Now she just had to hope the cats wouldn't get too curious about the tree. She'd put it on top of the speakers on a shelf, and she'd never actually _seen_ any of the cats up there, so she hoped it would be safe enough. They hadn't seemed terribly interested in it while she'd been putting it up, anyway.

She yawned and stretched, ready for bed. Tim was asleep when she crawled into bed next to him and she closed her eyes, ready for sleep. She'd just about drifted off when she heard a rustling next to her and felt him touch her shoulder.

"Calleigh? Are you asleep?" Tim whispered.

"Not entirely," she said, sleepily. "You been dreamin'?" He hadn't had a nightmare that she knew about in days, but it was bound to happen.

"No," he said. "No, I just…there's something I have to tell you."

"Right now?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. She rolled over and looked at him. He was sitting against the headboard with his knees drawn up. He hadn't turned on the light, so she couldn't see his face clearly, but there was obviously something bothering him.

"Ok," she sighed, and sat up. "What's up?"

"I don't…you're going to think this is crazy, and it may be, a little, but I swear to you, it's real. Well, as real as anything is, and I don't know if I know what that means anymore, exactly, but I think I'm supposed to tell you this. The more I think about it, the more I think I am supposed to tell you," he said.

"Whoa, wait a second, Tim," she said, blinking at him. "Slow down. What are you saying?"

"You can't tell me I'm crazy," he said.

"Okay," she said, slowly.

"I mean, I didn't tell Andy about this, exactly, but he says I'm not crazy, so I'm really not, you know?" he said in a rush. "I just…sometimes things seem real to me that might not to someone else."

"Does Andy know about _that_?" she asked, becoming somewhat concerned.

"Yeah. He thinks it's just how my head decided to process things. I don't know if that's it, or if it's actually real. I don't think I like it, though," he admitted.

"I'm not sure I like it too much, either," Calleigh said. "But go on. I won't tell you you're crazy."

"Ok, it's like this," he said, taking a deep breath. "When I was sick, or maybe when I was in surgery, I don't remember, or I maybe never knew, but anyway, when I wasn't…myself, I saw Eric."

Calleigh raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I was sitting there, and Eric was sitting there and he was talking to me," Tim said. She watched him start tracing circles on his knee with his finger as he talked. "I know it sounds strange and all, but I swear this really happened. Eric said I might not remember it all, and I don't think I do, but he said it was real, and well, he seemed like he'd know. And I don't think this is something my head would just make up."

"Okay," she said, slowly. "What did he say to you?"

"He said…he said that it was all going to be ok. That he understood now, you know, what happened to me, and knew why, I don't know, why I'm how I am. We'd talked about that, before things happened, you see. And I couldn't tell him, anymore than I could tell you, yet. But he said, that unless I trusted you and H and Alexx, I wasn't going to make it. That it was going to be something that could…really hurt me. And that it was time to stop fighting and do what you all had been saying, and just tell the story. You know, what happened with Jason and all that," he said. She could tell he was frowning, even though she couldn't quite see his face.

"Right," she said, softly.

"But then…then he said that everything was all right. That it happened the way it did because it was supposed to. And that he'd…he'd had his hope of heaven and now it was true for him. And that he wasn't lost out there, and I wouldn't be, either. That we're none of us lost in the end. And that's the part I think I'm supposed to tell you. That he's ok, and it's all going to be ok. He's not lost, and we won't be either, when we get there," Tim said, slowly, raising his head to look at her. The clouds had shifted, letting some moonlight into the room. She could just barely make out his expression and it was pleading with her to believe him.

His words and his expression slammed into her like a weight. She closed her eyes and tried to take a deep breath, but it caught on a sob. Why did he have to…why did Eric… She couldn't even make coherent thoughts anymore. The next thing she knew, she was crying, and Tim was holding her hand. "Shh, it's ok," he whispered.

The tears came anyway, but this time they didn't leave her feeling raw. For the first time since September, she actually felt better as she cried. "I'm…I'm ok," she said, squeezing his hand. "I just didn't…I didn't expect that."

"I'm sorry, maybe…" he said.

"No, don't be. You're right, I think you were supposed to tell me that," she said, wiping at her face.

"You don't think I'm crazy?" he whispered.

"No," she said, shaking her head.

"It was real, then," he whispered again, and she could see his eyes widen in the dim light.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I do know that you were…somewhere else, at first. It might be real. I think," she said, slowly. "I think that if you think it was real, then it was."

His hands tightened around hers. "I don't know what real is, exactly."

"That's ok," she said. "I don't think anyone does, when you think about it."

"Ok," he said, softly.

"It does explain a lot," she said, shifting around to sit next to him against the headboard.

"How's that?" he asked.

"We kept just waiting for you to react to Eric's death. And you didn't, you just wouldn't. It was a bit scary, and we were afraid you'd just buried it so far down that it couldn't surface. And we knew that wasn't good for you. But there wasn't really anything we could do about it- you were just too fragile. But you'd already reacted to it, and we just didn't know it, did we?" she asked.

"I think so, yes," he said. "It never…it hurt so much and then it didn't, hardly at all. Not that, anyway. The rest of it still did, but Eric being gone didn't hurt as much as the rest of it," he explained.

"At first, when you were so sick, you would just wake up and burst into tears," Calleigh said. "It was heartbreaking. You were so sick and so disoriented. And then when you finally came back to us, you were just so blank."

He nodded. "That's right. I think…yes," he said.

"I have to say, that's a bit of a relief," she said. "I just…you buried Jason so well, I just didn't want you to do the same with Eric."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "It's not like that."

"Good," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I'm glad."

"I'm sorry I put you though all this," he said.

"I'm not sorry I was here for you," she said. "And I'm glad you told me. It…might be the best Christmas gift, to know somehow that Eric's ok. Somehow, anyway. Even if it's not quite real."

"Good," he said. "I thought it might help."

"It did," she said, squeezing his hand. "It really does."

"That's good," he said, yawning. "He would want that, I think."

"Yes," she agreed. "He would want it to help. He'd want you to get better and he'd want everything to be good for us."

"I know," Tim said. "I'm trying."

"You are. You are trying so very hard," she said, softly. "And you're going to make it. You told us the secret, now. You trusted us."

"Yeah," Tim said. She could tell he was getting drowsy again.

"Come on, now," she said. "Put your head back down," she said, sliding down to rest her head on her pillow. He followed suit. "Better close your eyes and go to sleep. Santa can't come if you're awake," she teased, gently.

"Did your parents tell you that too?" he asked, sleepily.

"Oh, yes. Every year. Time to go to bed if you want Santa to come," she giggled. "Even after we had pretty well figured out that Santa wasn't real."

"But maybe he is," Tim replied.

She giggled again. "Maybe he is at that," she agreed. "In that case, we'd really better go to sleep."

"Mmm," he said, starting to drift off. "Night, then."

"Good night, Tim. Sweet dreams," she said, softly.

"You too," he said. She heard his breathing even out and closed her own eyes to anticipate the morning.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

* * *

A thrill of hope  
The weary world rejoices  
For yonder breaks  
A new and glorious morn

"O Holy Night", traditional carol

* * *

A loud banging startled him awake, sitting upright in shock. "Tim, Calleigh, come on!" Matt's voice called. "It's Christmas! Come on already!"

Tim slumped over his knees. "Damnit, Matthew," he sighed.

"I see your family does the crack of dawn insanity," Calleigh said drowsily as she raised her head to look at the clock.

"Yeah," he sighed. "I'd forgotten."

"Are you up?" Matt yelled from the other side of the door.

"Yes, Matthew. We're up," Tim called back.

"Good. Mom says we can't do anything without you," Matt replied.

Tim groaned as he got up and stumbled towards the door. "What are you, six?" he asked Matt as he opened the door.

"Yup!" Matt said, bouncing on his heels.

Tim just stared at him for a long moment in foggy disbelief. Then he did the only thing you could possibly do with an annoying younger brother: he reached out and pulled Matt into a headlock and dragged him down the hall. "Hey!" Matt said. "No fair!"

"It's plenty fair," Tim said, wrestling his brother into the living room.

"No, it's not, I can't hit you back!" Matt protested.

"So? You're bigger than I am, anyway" Tim said. It was true. Matt definitely outweighed Tim, even though he was still probably an inch or two shorter. _Not for long_, Tim thought to himself. His "little" brother was definitely going to wind up being the bigger of the two. "And you can hit back. Just don't punch me in the stomach or the face."

"Boys," his father said, sternly. "No one is hitting anyone on Christmas Day. Tim, let him go. Matt, apologize for being obnoxious."

"Yes, sir," they said, simultaneously. Tim let Matt go and slumped down on the couch between his parents.

"Sorry, Tim," Matt said as he scooted into the kitchen.

"S'ok," Tim shrugged. He glanced around. "Hey, where'd the tree come from?" he asked, confused.

"I put it up," Calleigh said, as she entered the living room.

"Oh," Tim said, blinking. "All right, then."

"Here," his mom said, handing him a glass of juice. "Calleigh, would you like some coffee?"

"Oh, please," Calleigh said, accepting a mug from his mom. "Thank you."

"We tried to convince Matt that Christmas could wait until a more reasonable hour, but he saw no reason to break with tradition just because we don't have to go to Mass and dinner," his dad sighed.

"You'd think that he'd be the one willing to sleep," Tim mumbled into his juice.

"Too many early morning swim practices," his mom sighed.

Matt reappeared with a pan of cinnamon rolls, which he plunked down on the table. "Ok, everyone's up, there's coffee, there's food, so we're set, right?"

"Yes, Matt. You can hand out the presents, now," his dad said.

Tim was amazed at how excited Matt was. He couldn't remember ever being that excited over Christmas. But then, Matt seemed excited over just about everything, which used up considerably more energy than Tim thought he'd ever had. He picked up a cinnamon roll and took a bite as Matt handed everyone a small stack of gifts.

"So how do y'all do this," Calleigh asked, looking slightly stunned to have a pile of her own. "One at a time, or everyone at once?"

"Oh, it's a free-for-all," his dad said. "No one's ever had enough patience to go one at a time in my family. There's just too many of us." His dad shook a box speculatively. "Full steam ahead whenever you're ready."

Matt and his mom were already unwrapping gifts. "Wow, thanks, Tim," Matt said.

"You're welcome," he said.

"What'd you get him?" his mom asked, looking up from her own pile.

"A couple DVDs. Monty Python and Ferris Bueller. I figured every college kid needed 'em," he replied.

"Good idea," his mom agreed. She finished unwrapping a sweater. "Oh, Danny, thank you," she said.

"You're most welcome, love," his dad said.

Calleigh laughed suddenly. "Look what your brother gave me, Tim," she said, gleefully. "A scarf!"

Tim laughed. "Now you have two." Calleigh's entrancement with winter clothing and the snow had been the only detail of their trip to North Carolina he'd shared with his parents.

"I do!" she said. "Thank you!"

"Tim, those presents are for opening, not just looking at," his dad said, amusedly.

"I know. I'm getting there," he said vaguely, watching Matt open a package from their parents. It was more fun watching everyone else open their gifts than opening his own. Besides, he was still eating the cinnamon roll, and he didn't want to get his gifts sticky. He'd really rather just sit back and watch everyone else.

The Christmas tree lights twinkled above them and there were cats batting at discarded wrapping paper and ribbons. The house smelled like coffee and cinnamon and was snug and cozy. He was comfortably ensconced between his parents on the couch, watching everyone's faces light up with joy. _This isn't such a bad thing_, he thought. _Not such a bad thing at all_. He wasn't sure, but he thought he might even be a little bit happy, sitting there in the middle of Christmas morning chaos, surrounded by hope and joy. It really was a wonderful morning, full of the promise of things to come.

End

* * *

AN: Whew! I have to say, it's hard to write about Christmas in May. But everyone's in one piece! I'm glad you all have enjoyed it! 


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